


Forging Bonds

by mikkimouse



Series: The Alpha and the Emissary [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Gen, M/M, Minor Jennifer Blake/Derek Hale, Non-Canonical Character Death, Past Derek Hale/Paige, Pre-Slash, mention of previous dubious consent (see end notes for details)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 05:31:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7832266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikkimouse/pseuds/mikkimouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The loft was flooded, the water shimmering in the moonlight streaking through the huge windows. The twins held Derek on his knees, with his arms extended and claws out. Kali had Boyd, and she was dragging him toward Derek, and—</p>
<p>Stiles aimed at the twin closest to him and threw the Molotov cocktail as hard as he could.</p>
<p>(In which Stiles gets to the loft just a few minutes sooner in s3e7, and what happens because of it.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Water and Ash

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU immeasurably to my team for their encouragement and their feedback as I was working on this. I couldn't have done it without you guys. <3 
> 
> And please enjoy the AMAZING art.
> 
> If you want more details on the deaths and the dubcon mentioned in the tags, click through to the end notes!

_They've cut the power_. 

Boyd's text pounded in Stiles's head like a particularly annoying song, one he couldn't get out no matter how much he tried. He urged the Jeep faster, ripping down the roads of Beacon Hills toward Derek's loft and praying that the deputies had better things to do tonight. 

It wasn't enough to deal with a dark druid, a freaking _Darach_ , sacrificing every virgin, warrior, and healer they could get their hands on. Oh no. They also had to deal with a pack of _Alphas_ —which made absolutely no sense, but that was Stiles's life now, apparently. And said pack of Alphas had decided Derek was going to be their newest member whether he wanted it or not. 

Of course, "joining" their pack meant Derek would have to kill his entire current pack, something he was understandably reluctant to do. 

Their last showdown with the Alphas left Derek and Ennis dead—well, _presumably_ dead, because while Stiles and Scott had been pretty fucking sure about Derek, they got back from the school field trip from hell to find out that, no, Derek was still alive and brooding. 

Stiles wasn't aware he could be both relieved and really fucking pissed off at the same time, but Derek introduced him to new and confusing emotions every day.

Ennis was dead, though. Very, definitively dead. And Kali was _pissed_ about it.

And now she was looking to take her vengeance out on Derek.

In the passenger's seat, Cora growled and planted one hand on the Jeep's dashboard, her claws slowly stretching out. 

"Easy there," Stiles said. "Don't claw up my baby; the Jeep didn't do anything to you."

Cora glared at him, eyes flashing gold. "Go. Faster." 

Stiles focused on the road and shifted into the next gear. "Believe me, I'm trying."

Scott had gone after Deaton—apparently Beacon Hills' resident veterinarian was just what the Darach was looking for in a sacrifice—which left Stiles, Cora, and Lydia as the only ones who could get to Derek. Maybe. 

They didn't have much time. Sure, Derek wasn't alone; he had Boyd and Isaac, but one Alpha and two Beta wolves against _any_ of the Alpha pack wasn't exactly a fair fight. And if more than one had shown up? Game over, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars.

Damn it, he'd just spent two days thinking Derek was _dead,_ and that had been unpleasant, to say the least. He wasn't going to let it happen for real. 

Stiles flicked his gaze to the rearview mirror, where Lydia had turned his backseat into a miniature chem lab. "How's it going back there?" 

"It would be going better if we weren't moving," Lydia said. 

Cora snarled. "Don't—" 

"I didn't say stop," Lydia cut her off. "How long do we have?" 

Stiles glanced at the road signs. "Five minutes. We'll be there in five minutes." 

He could only pray that Derek and the others could hold off the Alphas for five more minutes.

***

They squealed into the parking lot of Derek's building four minutes and twenty seconds later, and Stiles was pretty sure he actually _had_ passed a deputy at the last intersection. Oh well. Not important. 

He jumped out of the Jeep and gave Lydia a hand, taking both the glass bottles she handed him with the greatest of caution. 

"I could only make two," she said. 

"It'll be enough," Stiles said with _far_ more confidence than he felt. "Do you have the wolfsbane?" 

Lydia held up two small vials filled with purple powder. "Got it." 

"Let's go!" Cora shouted.

Stiles ran after her, but Cora wasn't even bothering to slow down. By the time he and Lydia caught up with her, she was already at the elevator, slamming her hand on the button. 

To Stiles's surprise, the elevator screeched open. 

Cora held the door for him and Lydia, and then the elevator shuddered toward the top floor. 

He turned to Cora. "The power's _out_." 

"Backup generators. Just to keep the elevators running," Cora said. "You have literally _no_ idea how paranoid my brother is, do you?" 

"I'm starting to get an idea," Stiles said. 

Lydia tapped him with one of her vials. "Here." 

Stiles traded her for one of the Molotov cocktails. This was absolutely _insane_ , going after Alpha werewolves armed with nothing but two Molotov cocktails, wolfsbane, and some mountain ash. But they had to. 

They couldn't let anyone else die. 

Stiles clenched his jaw against the bile rising in his throat. He _wouldn't_ let anyone else die. He wouldn't. No matter what he had to do. 

The elevator stopped with a dull _clunk_ , and Cora yanked the door open and bolted across the hall to Derek's wide-open door. Stiles was right behind her. 

The loft was flooded, the water shimmering in the moonlight streaking through the huge windows. The twins held Derek on his knees, with his arms extended and claws out. Kali had Boyd, and she was dragging him toward Derek, and—

Stiles aimed at the twin closest to him and threw the Molotov cocktail as hard as he could. 

For one heart-stopping second, he was sure it wouldn't work. He'd miss, the bottle would fall into the water, and Boyd would—

The bottle cracked on the twin's head and exploded in a fireball. He screamed and clawed at his face, stumbling back. His brother gaped at him, horrified. 

Derek jerked free and turned on them with a roar Stiles felt down to his bones. 

Stiles caught another explosion out of the corner of his eye, and he spun to see Boyd scrambling away from Kali, who whipped her head back and forth to shake off the fire. 

He looked to Lydia. "Good aim."

She grinned. "You too."

Cora roared and jumped off the stairs, tackling Kali in a way that would've made a linebacker proud. They hit the water with a loud splash, sending a small wave rippling through the loft. 

Stiles's heart hammered in his chest. He had to do something. 

"Holy _shit_ ," a new voice said from slightly behind them. 

Stiles whirled around. Isaac was crouched on the stairs, next to...Ms. Blake? Their fucking _English_ teacher? 

"Dude, what the hell are you doing over here?" Stiles asked. 

Isaac glared at him. "Protecting _her_." 

He wanted to _strangle_ Isaac. "Well, I think _they_ ," Stiles gestured madly at Cora, Derek, and Boyd, "could use a little more help right now, don't you? Get your scarf-wearing ass out there." 

Isaac cursed at him, but he ran to help Derek with the twins.

Good. Slightly better odds now. Stiles turned to Lydia. "Lydia?" 

Lydia stepped closer to Ms. Blake. "Don't worry, I've got things here." 

"Good." Stiles pulled his vial of mountain ash out of his pocket and poured it in a quick circle around them. "As long as this doesn't break, they can't touch you." 

Lydia nodded once. "Got it. Now go help!"

He ran into the water, just on the edge of the two fights, analyzing both. He wasn't afraid of the Alphas—or, well, he _was,_ but he also wasn't about to let his friends face them alone. However, if he didn't pick his battles properly, he'd end up doing more harm than good. 

He _really_ wished he'd brought his bat.

Four on three. Better odds than before, but still not great. And Stiles knew Kali, at least, was a better fighter than both Cora and Boyd. 

They'd bought some time, but that was all they'd done. Boyd and Derek were both injured, and even with the Molotov cocktails, neither the twins nor Kali had slowed down at all. 

Stiles caught Derek's eyes, and saw what he already knew with a bone-deep certainty. They couldn't win this one. 

_Shit_. 

"Derek, get the pack close to me," Stiles said, and hoped like hell he had enough spark or magic or what the fuck _ever_ it was to do this right. 

Derek picked up one of the twins—it was too dark for Stiles to tell whether it was Ethan or Aiden—and threw him into the other. He pushed Isaac closer to Stiles. "Just what the hell are you planning?" Derek demanded. 

Stiles poured the rest of his mountain ash into his hand. "Oh, just hoping for a stalemate right now."

Derek frowned at him, and then his eyes widened and he yelled, "Cora!" 

Kali had her hand around Cora's throat, and was holding her in the air. Cora clawed at her hands, and then kicked out, her boot connecting with Kali's neck. 

Kali jerked and Cora wrenched her way free. 

Boyd picked up Kali and literally _threw_ her across the room, right into the metal spiral staircase. He grabbed Cora and they both ran to Stiles. 

Great. They were all close enough. He looked at Lydia, who held her vial of wolfsbane close and nodded once. 

Stiles threw the mountain ash into the air, willing it to go out and surround the pack. He had no idea if this would work; he'd only practiced it a couple of times over the summer and each time he'd ended up with a mouthful of ash. 

_Believe_ , he ordered himself. 

Kali charged at them, and Derek pushed in front of Stiles. Stiles threw his arms out and pushed him back. "Don't." 

Derek made a low, distressed noise in the back of his throat. "Stiles—" 

Kali hit the barrier with a roar, and it sent her skidding three feet back. Stiles considered getting out his camera to take a picture of the look on her face. He wanted that shit as his lock screen.

He let out a long, shaky breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Take _that_." 

"What the _hell?_ " Cora said from behind him. 

Kali raised an eyebrow. "Holding an ash ring on water. Impressive for a spark of your age. But you can't hold it forever." 

Stiles narrowed his eyes. "Watch me." 

She looked over his shoulder, presumably at Derek. "Do you really have that much faith in him? Do you really think he's strong enough to outlast _us_?"

Stiles swallowed hard. He didn't want to hear the answer to that question. He and Derek couldn't be called friends, could barely be called allies. And Derek still didn't trust him. 

A heavy hand fell on his shoulder. "Yeah, I do," Derek said. 

Which, _what_. 

Stiles's first instinct was to whirl and gape at him, but he couldn't afford to be distracted from holding the ash circle right now. It was one thing when it was on solid ground, but here, with the water rippling underneath it, believing it was whole took all his concentration. 

Kali's face twisted into an ugly grin. "Well, then. Let's see who's right." 

Aiden and Ethan came into his field of vision, smirking, and they stripped off their shirts. 

_Shit_. That meant they were going to shift. "Okay, seriously, what's up with the angry striptease every time you two want to shift into Voltron Wolf? I'm equal opportunity on the gender spectrum, but I don't try to make a point by threateningly taking off my _shirt_." 

"Are you trying to annoy them into stopping?" Isaac asked. 

Stiles shrugged. "It was a thought." 

It was also not working. One twin—dammit, Stiles _still_ couldn't tell them apart—punched the other in the back, and yep, they were starting to merge. He could probably hold the barrier against them, but he didn't know how long and both Derek and Boyd sounded like they were breathing about as much blood as they were air. He needed to get the Alphas out of here, and now. 

He flicked his eyes to Derek. "Hold your breaths," he whispered, and got out his last vial of wolfsbane. 

He popped the top with his thumb and threw it at the twins. A delicate rain of purple powder showered over them. Kind of pretty, mostly anticlimactic. 

The wolfsbane split the twins apart, knocking them both about five feet away, face-down in the water. One of them staggered back to his feet and vomited black goop, while the other...still wasn't getting up. 

Okay. Not thinking about that. Stiles definitely wasn't thinking about that right now. 

Kali snarled, gaze flicking from the twins to Stiles, before she took a threatening step toward him. 

"Do you really want to do that?" Stiles asked. "Or do you want to see what other tricks I've got up my sleeve?" 

Kali bared her teeth. "Oh, I could take you." 

His mouth went dry at the thought, and a bead of sweat trickled down his temple. "True. I am just a human, after all. But I'll be damned if I don't take you down with me." 

Her eyes widened. Clearly she hadn't been expecting that. 

Beside him, Derek snarled in return. "Take your pack and get the hell out of my loft."

For a moment, Kali stayed where she was, like she was debating whether to continue the fight on her own. Then the other twin vomited again, and Kali cursed under her breath and retrieved them both, slinging the unconscious twin over her shoulder. Stiles thought it was probably Aiden, or maybe that was just his own private hope. 

Kali paused long enough to throw another angry glare at them. "You can't hide there forever," she said. "And we're not leaving town until we get what we came for." 

Derek's hand twitched on Stiles's shoulder. "Get out." 

Kali bared her teeth, but she headed toward the stairs with the twins. Stiles scooted around the edge of his mountain ash circle so he could keep his eyes on her. Behind him, he felt the rest of the pack shuffle with him. 

Kali paused in front of Lydia and Ms. Blake, eyeing them suspiciously.

Lydia held up her own vial of wolfsbane. "Please, try it. I'd love to shove this down your throat." 

With a final snarl at the lot of them, Kali dragged the twins out of the loft. The door slammed shut, and then Stiles couldn't hear them anymore. 

"They're still in the building," Derek murmured.

Stiles nodded once to show he'd heard. _Still in the building_ meant he wasn't letting go of this ash circle. Not yet. 

The barrier flashed, and Stiles glanced over his shoulder to see Isaac poking at it. "Stop that!"

Isaac scowled and lowered his hand. 

It felt like an eternity before Derek said, "They're gone." He squeezed Stiles's shoulder. "You can let it go, now." 

Stiles dropped his arms in relief, and the ash circle dispersed on the water. "Oh thank _fuck_." 

On the stairs, Lydia toed open the ash circle around her and Ms. Blake.

"We need to get this place cleaned up," Isaac said. 

"We need to get the power back on," Cora said grimly.

The loft tilted, and Stiles stumbled. Huh. He was _really_ tired all of a sudden. And dizzy. So much with the dizziness. "Great. You guys do that. I'm just going to, you know, pass out on this super soft water right here." 

The last thing he heard was Derek yelling his name.


	2. Pledge and Promise

Stiles jerked awake out of a half-remembered dream, heart pounding erratically. Blood and fire and the stink of gasoline, so much gasoline, watching as Scott—

_Dream_ , he told himself fiercely. _It didn't happen that way. It's only a dream._

He sat up slowly, his head throbbing. He was still in the loft, lying on a bed. Someone had taken off his shoes. Moonlight spilled through the windows, so all he knew was that it was still nighttime. He had no idea how long he'd been out. 

He probably needed to call his dad. 

"How are you feeling?" a voice asked from _way_ too close. 

Stiles jerked; he hadn't realized there was anyone else in bed with him. And yet, there was Derek, sitting up against the headboard with a book on his lap and a scowl on his face, like he was angry at what he was reading or angry at Stiles for having to be in his bed or who _knew_ what. 

Stiles groaned and pushed himself up so he could lean on the headboard as well. "Fine," he said. "I'm fine." 

Derek snorted and turned a page in the book. "You're lying." 

Stiles rubbed his temples. "I'm not...ugh, _fine_ , I'm still groggy and I have a headache, happy now?" 

Derek touched the back of his hand, and within seconds, the headache ebbed. Stiles watched in fascination as the lines of black raced through Derek's veins, disappearing halfway up his arm. 

"That's better than aspirin," Stiles said. "Quicker, too." 

Derek huffed and went back to his book. 

"How is everyone?" Stiles asked. 

"Alive," Derek said. "Cora, Boyd, and Isaac are upstairs." 

Stiles was not expecting the level of relief he felt at hearing that. "Lydia?" 

"She borrowed my car to take Jennifer home."

Stiles closed his eyes and leaned his head back. If they'd taken even five seconds longer to get to the loft... "Good. That's good." He snapped his eyes open as something occurred to him. "Dude, what the hell was Ms. Blake doing here, anyway?" 

Derek's grip tightened on the book, and Stiles thought he saw claw marks appear on the cover. "Kali brought her. To get to me." 

"To get to _you?_ " That was news to Stiles. "How the hell would that work, unless you were—oh my God, are you _dating_ her? When the hell did that happen?" 

Derek growled and his eyes flashed red. "Recently." 

"Recently," Stiles repeated flatly. "Thank you, that's astoundingly helpful." 

"Does it matter?" 

He probably meant for it to come out harsh, but all Stiles could hear was how tired he sounded. Like he hadn't slept in days. Hell, he probably hadn't. 

Stiles bit back his initial retort, and instead said, "No, I guess it doesn't." 

For a moment, Derek said nothing, and then he slid a bookmark into his book and set it aside. "Have you been practicing?" 

Stiles blinked at the question. Talk about a non sequitur. "Practicing what? Lacrosse?" 

Derek didn't laugh. "Magic. Druid magic. _Emissary_ magic." 

Stiles sighed. His headache was making a comeback. "No, not really. Deaton gave me some stuff during all that kanima shit, you know? I just started keeping it with me, keeping it in my Jeep. I did a bit with it over the summer, but not really _practicing._ I just wanted to keep it on hand. Just in case." 

"Just in case," Derek repeated. "In case of what?" 

"Dude, have you seen the shitstorm our lives have become over the past eight months?" Stiles flung out his hand and immediately regretted it. Moving was bad, so bad right now. "I figured it was past time to make the Boy Scout motto my motto. Be prepared." 

"Scar's motto," Derek said, so quietly Stiles almost missed it. 

Stiles wiped a hand over his face and laughed. This was ridiculous. "Oh my God, are you a secret Disney nerd? Is that seriously what just happened here?" 

Derek gave him a flat look. "I wasn't born in a barn." 

"Yeah, but you were raised by wolves." Oh man, Stiles had been holding that one in for _months_ now.

"Stop it," Derek snapped. "Do you have any idea how rare it is to have someone who can hold an ash barrier on _water?_ I don't think it's ever been done before. I don't think _Deaton_ can do it." 

"Can Deaton really do anything aside from be cryptic and mysterious?" Stiles asked, and then he remembered. "Oh, _shit._ Where's my phone?" 

"Don't change the subject." 

"I'm not—the Darach took Deaton and Scott went after him and I would _like_ to know if my best friend is still alive or if he was murdered by a dark druid! Is that okay with you?" 

Derek grabbed his phone off the table next to the bed and tossed it to Stiles. "Scott texted me, and I called him back. He got to Deaton in time."

Stiles swiped open the phone and skimmed through the still-active message thread. Sure enough, Scott was fine. Everyone was fine. So why couldn't he stop shaking? "Dad's probably going to kill me when he realizes I haven't been home all night." 

"I told Scott to tell him you'd come over here with Boyd and Isaac to study," Derek said. "It was late and you fell asleep on your books, so I let you all crash here instead of driving home."

Stiles laughed weakly. "I wish I _had_ come over here to study. I probably wouldn't feel like so much shit right now." 

Derek took the phone back. "Which brings us back to my original point. Stiles, do you have any idea what you've done?" 

Stiles flailed. "No, I don't have any idea, okay? I don't know what druids are supposed to do, I don't know what emissaries are supposed to do, I don't know what _I'm_ supposed to do or what even I _can_ do when there are a bunch of bloodthirsty Alpha werewolves and a murderous Darach running around town! The whole thing is, like, built on what you can believe and I _believe_ that I really don't want to see anyone fucking die. _Again_. And if I can do _something_ to stop it, I'm going to." 

Derek stared at him in disbelief. Stiles wished he weren't quite so acquainted with that look. 

"Emissaries, like Alphas, are stronger with a pack," Derek said. "The larger and more stable the pack, the stronger and more powerful they'll be." 

"Yes, thank you, Derek, I remember Werewolf 101 from earlier this year." 

Derek fixed him with a glare. "Emissaries _belong_ to a pack, Stiles, and last I checked, you weren't in mine." 

It felt like a slap to the face, and Stiles recoiled. He scrambled off the bed, trembling in anger. "Well, thanks for that reminder, asshole. You're welcome for saving your life, now give me my shoes and I'll get the hell out of here." 

Derek dragged his hands through his hair. "That's not what I meant." 

"Then what _did_ you mean?" Stiles was yelling, but at this point, he couldn't begin to care. "I realize I'm not part of your special leather jacket club, but I thought this was one of those moments where we were, I don't know, working together for once?" 

"You're a part of _Scott's_ pack!" Derek yelled back. "You've always been a part of Scott's pack." 

"Scott's not an Alpha, how can he have a pack?" 

"Deaton was my mother's emissary for _years_ and I never saw him do anything like _that!_ " Derek jabbed a finger at the floor of the loft, where Stiles had held the ash circle in place. "I don't understand how you could do something like that for my pack when you aren't even in it!" 

Stiles was glad he hadn't found his shoes, because he would have thrown one at Derek. "I already told you, I _don't know_." 

Derek swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. "Why didn't you go with Scott?" 

Stiles jerked back at the unexpected question. "What do you mean?" 

"You came here. Tonight. You brought..." Derek trailed off and his throat worked, and when he spoke again, it was much softer. "You came here tonight ready to fight. Why didn't you go with Scott?" 

Stiles opened and closed his mouth, but no sound came out. He couldn't answer. Hell, he wasn't _sure_ of the answer. "Scott had it handled, and it wasn't like Cora had a car to get over here. She might have threatened me a little." 

Derek walked around the bed, removing the last visible barrier between them, and came to stand close enough that Stiles could see the colors of his eyes. "That's a lie." 

Stiles groaned and rolled his eyes. "What does it matter, okay?" 

"It matters because you saved my pack," Derek said quietly. "And the only way you could've done it, the only way you could've held that barrier the way you did, is if you were a _part_ of this pack." 

Stiles's heart stopped, thudded harder, and then did a lot of unfamiliar acrobatic things. Scott was his _best friend_ , his brother, they'd gone through this whole werewolf thing together—

"Stiles," Derek whispered, "why did you come here tonight?" 

Stiles swallowed, tears pricking at his eyes. "It felt like you needed me." His throat tightened, making it hard to speak. "When Cora got the message from Boyd...it felt like you needed me." 

It was too much truth between them. The room was silent except for Derek's steady breaths and Stiles's shakier ones, and the faint sounds of traffic drifting up from the streets below. 

"You have the potential to be a very powerful emissary," Derek said. 

Stiles laughed and swiped at his eyes with the cuff of his shirt. "First time I have the potential to be a powerful anything." 

"Is that...something you'd want?" Derek asked. 

"What, being an emissary?" 

Derek nodded. 

"I, uh, I don't know." Stiles scratched the back of his neck. "I mean...maybe? I don't really know what all that would entail, aside from the mountain ash stuff and learning how to speak without saying anything, if Deaton's anything to go by." 

Derek smirked. "I think you've got the speaking without saying anything down pretty well." 

Stiles half-heartedly punched him in the shoulder. "Asshole." 

"I don't know much either. I wasn't..." A flash of pain crossed Derek's face. "This was supposed to be Laura's job. Not mine." 

This was getting too fucking heavy for Stiles to deal with right now. "So, what, you want an emissary who doesn't know how to emissary for an Alpha who doesn't know how to Alpha?" 

It was worth it for the way Derek laughed softly, hunching his shoulders just a little like he didn't want it to escape. "If...that's something you would want. Yes." 

Stiles gaped. That was all he could do, gape. Since when had anyone ever wanted him around? Even with Scott, there were times it felt like he was just putting up with Stiles because there wasn't anyone better to hang out with. The whole Allison thing (and now the Isaac thing) had thrown that into stark relief. 

"Is that something you would want?" Derek asked hesitantly. 

Stiles realized he'd been silent for far too long. He scratched the back of his head, his heart pounding. "I don't know...I mean, it would be _really_ cool. So, uh...yeah. Yeah, I guess I would." 

Saying it aloud felt like falling off a cliff, terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. Holy shit. He was really doing this. 

Derek's mouth twitched up in the smallest of smiles for half a second, and then fell back into his familiar hard glare. "You'd have to be part of my pack. Officially." 

"Yeah, I gathered that."

"Scott probably won't be too happy."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Scott's a big boy. He'll live. Besides, he's got Allison to keep him in line. And Isaac, now."

Derek's brow twisted into a deeper furrow, a frown that made Stiles wish he'd kept his mouth shut about Isaac. He hurried on. "And it's not like being part of one pack means you never interact with another, right?"

"Of course not." Derek looked appalled at the suggestion. "I'd never ask that of you. Of any of you." 

"Okay then." Stiles shoved his hands in his pockets. "So we're still going to work together to figure out who the hell the Darach is and what the hell the Alpha pack is up to and how to get _both_ of them out of our town."

Derek's smile was a little feral. "Yes, we are." 

Stiles cleared his throat and stood straighter. What he was about to say was one of the most important things he'd ever say in his life, and he didn't want to fuck it up. 

He looked Derek right in the eye and spoke without the slightest tremble in his voice. "Alpha Hale, I pledge myself as your emissary, and God help the assholes who take on your pack while I'm around." 

It felt like Derek was staring into his soul. "I accept," he said softly. 

Stiles wasn't sure what he expected. Nothing, really, if he were being honest. But a small glowing light shot out of his chest, across the space between them, and right into Derek. Stiles felt like someone had flicked him right over his heart, and Derek staggered back, clutching his chest. 

Stiles caught him by the shoulders. "Holy shit, what was that? Are you okay? Did I just zap you with something? Did I just zap us _both_ with something?" 

Derek rubbed his chest. "I'm fine, Stiles." 

"Do you know what that was?" Stiles asked. 

"I'm not sure." Derek's frown deepened. "Mom talked about the bond between emissary and Alpha, but she never mentioned anything like that." 

"Bond?" Stiles repeated. "Wait, we're bonded?" 

Derek hunched his shoulders, like it had been an accusation. "I told you, you'd be part of my pack. Officially." 

"Well, yeah, but I didn't realize that would involve actual blinking lights!" Stiles touched Derek's chest where the light had hit him, and put a hand over his own heart. "I don't feel any different. Do you feel any different? Do you think it's going to be a literal bond, or was that just a literal manifestation of the metaphorical bond we've established as Alpha and emissary? And I can't fucking believe I live in a world where that sentence actually makes sense." 

Derek's eyes darted between Stiles and the hand on his chest. "Um." 

Stiles realized what he was doing, and dropped his hand. "Sorry." 

Derek shook his head. "Don't be. Just...we should get some sleep. It's after midnight." 

"Oh shit, really?" Stiles groaned. "Thank God you gave my dad a cover story, otherwise I would be so dead. Deader than dead." 

"You can thank me by taking Boyd and Isaac to school tomorrow," Derek said dryly. 

"Are you sure they won't strangle me with Isaac's scarf and leave me on the side of the road?" 

"You just saved their lives and you're part of our pack," Derek said. "I think you're safe for a few days." 

Stiles snorted and looked out the windows onto the dark city below. The Alphas were still out there, with their terrifying preoccupation with Derek and his pack. The Darach was still killing people, making sacrifices to who knew what end. 

They wouldn't be safe for a few days. Hell, they'd barely be safe for a few hours. 

He glanced at Derek. From the grim look on his face, Stiles would guess Derek's thoughts were running along a similar line. 

He rested his hand on Derek's shoulder. "We'll figure it out."

Derek met his gaze and nodded once, eyes glowing red. "Yeah, we will."


	3. Pack and Poison

The next morning, Derek paced. Stiles had left with Boyd and Isaac around seven. Cora was still asleep—she was far less of a morning person than Derek was—so Derek paced on the balcony, sipping his coffee and shading his eyes against the early morning sunlight. 

Something had changed last night. When Stiles had made his pledge, when Derek had accepted, it felt like a shadow had lifted, like Stiles had thrown away a burden Derek hadn't realized he was carrying. It wasn't metaphorical, and it wasn't just the bond. It was like...some other magic had been broken so that this magic could be formed. 

That was unsettling. 

Who else around Beacon Hills did magic? And more importantly, who had cast a spell on him without Derek realizing it? 

He leaned on the balcony railing and stared out over the city. It was possible there was another explanation, but he couldn't think of one. The thought of someone using magic on him without his knowledge made his skin crawl. 

Later. After they dealt with the Alphas, after they dealt with the Darach and stopped the sacrifices, Derek would have time to figure it out. 

And who knew? Stiles might actually help him.

***

"You did _what?!_ "

Stiles winced at the volume of Scott's voice. "Would you keep it down, man?" 

"Nobody's listening," Scott muttered, but he dropped his voice to something quieter. 

Stiles sighed. He wasn't going to keep it from Scott that he'd helped Derek out, and that "helping out" had ended up actually meaning "pledged to be his emissary and maybe we kind of magically bonded." Scott was his best friend, and they'd been in this supernatural shit together from the beginning. 

However, Stiles admitted that he _could_ have picked a better place to have this conversation. Somewhere that wasn't the school cafeteria, filled with a few hundred fellow teenagers who were blissfully unaware of the existence of the supernatural, and Stiles really wanted to keep it that way. 

"Did you seriously say that you agreed to be Derek's _emissary?_ " Scott asked. "Like, Derek _Hale_?" 

Stiles shoved a forkful of peas into his mouth. "It's not like we know any other Dereks."

"So you're in his pack now?" Scott looked wounded. "But you're in _my_ pack!" 

"Dude, I had to do something or they were going to _die_ ," Stiles said. "Like, one hundred percent, Kali and the Murder Twins were going to kill them right in front of me and I can't handle that, okay? Heather just _kissed_ me and she ended up—" 

He cut himself off and looked down at his cafeteria tray, with peas and curly fries and two and a half chicken strips. Heather had been one of the few people who'd known him most of his life, and more importantly, who'd known his _mom_. Even though they hadn't been as close in recent years, losing her was like losing another piece of his life before his mom had gotten sick, and Stiles was desperate to cling to any parts of it that he could. 

"Hey," Scott said seriously. "Stiles. It isn't your fault. We're going to figure out who did that to her, okay?" 

And this was one of the reasons he loved Scott. "Thanks, Scotty." 

"I mean, we are still working together on that, aren't we?" 

Stiles flicked a pea at him. "Of course we are. We _all_ are." Emphasis on _all_ because it wasn't just the Scott and Stiles Show, with whoever Scott decided was worthy to bring in on their side. "It's a problem for the town, so we need to fix it." 

Scott glared at his tray. "I still can't believe you went to Derek instead of me." 

Stiles groaned and buried his face in his hands. "Dude! It's not like I went there with the _intention_ of becoming an emissary. I went there with the intention of setting a couple of the Alphas on fire and hopefully scaring them out of town!" 

"And how well did that work out for you?" 

Stiles shrugged. "Well, we set them on fire, so we definitely accomplished step one." 

Scott rolled his eyes and slid his glance toward the cafeteria windows, like he was looking for the twins. Even though they weren't in this lunch period, Stiles still felt the presence of Ethan and Aiden like a physical itch, like they were just waiting around the corner to jump out at them. 

_Not here_ , Stiles told himself, and hoped it was true. 

"I still wish you'd talked to me about it before you went around and just told Derek you'd be his emissary," Scott muttered. 

"Dude!" Stiles flung out his hands and accidentally sent a pea flying across the room. "Really? When would I have had time to _do_ that? 'Yeah, Kali, hold on just one second and don't shish-ka-bob my friends, I need to make a phone call'? I didn't realize this was going to be such a big fucking deal for you!" 

That was a lie. Stiles had _hoped_ Scott had put enough of his issues with Derek behind them for this to work—and the whole "guilting himself into nearly dying over Derek's supposed death" thing had made it seem like that was the case—but he also wasn't entirely surprised to find out it wasn't true.

"You don't even like him!" Scott said. 

"I don't... _not_ like him," Stiles hedged. "I don't hate him. And...they needed me. I could do something, Scott. I could help them. And I _did_." 

And it had felt good.

Scott bit his lip. He looked like he didn't really want to admit it, but Stiles knew he had a hero complex a mile wide and an all-encompassing need to make sure people didn't get hurt. Stiles's list of people who needed protection was admittedly much smaller than Scott's, but he had a few on there. 

"Do you even know how to be an emissary?" Scott asked. "You hadn't even heard of it until this year."

It shouldn't have hurt. Hell, it was the same thing both he _and_ Derek had said last night. But coming from Scott, it stung. Stiles bristled. "I can figure it out. Hell, I managed to make it work well enough yesterday." 

"Stiles—"

The bell rang before Stiles heard whatever excuse Scott would come up with for what he'd said. He shoved a few more bites of food in his mouth and grabbed his bag. "I've got to go. See you in chem."

***

Stiles did _not_ give his best friend the silent treatment. He really didn't. He just...didn't instigate any conversation for the rest of the day. He was in class and he had plenty of schoolwork he'd been neglecting. He really shouldn't have been talking to Scott _anyway_. 

But yes, he was also being petty. Derek thought he could do this, damn it. Hell, Derek had _asked_ him to be his emissary. Scott had known him since preschool. Why couldn't he have the same faith? 

Stiles flipped through his notebook, only half-paying attention to his trigonometry teacher droning on at the front of the classroom. It was the last class of the day, anyway; nobody was expected to be paying attention. 

English hadn't been nearly as awkward as he'd thought it would be. Ms. Blake hadn't paid any more attention to him than usual, even though Stiles was trying to communicate with facial expressions _I realize you are boning Derek and what do you think about the whole werewolf thing?_

(Lydia had asked him afterward if he was constipated, so maybe his facial expressions hadn't been communicating as well as he would have liked.)

He scratched the back of his neck and tried to focus on math, but it was hard to remember the importance of sine, cosine, and tangent when death—actual death, not just classroom death—lurked around every corner. The supernatural made it really hard to remember that he still needed to worry about college. 

He _really_ hoped the Alphas had given up on whatever they'd wanted with Derek. With all the sacrifices and the Darach on top of that, it was too much to deal with. Still, Stiles highly doubted they would be that lucky. Ennis was dead and Kali was blaming Derek for that, and she didn't exactly seem the type to let anything stand in the way of murderous revenge. 

The final bell rang, and Stiles gathered his stuff and winced at the amount of homework he had. None of it would help him find the Darach or the Alphas and stop them, but he had to keep his grades up. The last thing he needed was his dad getting even more suspicious about where he spent his time. 

_You need to tell him_ , his conscience whispered at the back of his mind. 

His conscience sounded suspiciously like Scott. It was probably best to ignore it, in that case. 

He stopped by his locker and traded out what books he needed for his homework, and hefted his backpack on. Times like this, he really considered taking the Bite. Werewolf strength would be a huge boon when he had to carry so many damn books. 

He was halfway to the doors when someone slammed into him. "Hey, watch it—"

Stiles cut himself off when he saw it was Cora. Surprising, considering she didn't actually go to school here. "Cora? What are you doing here?" 

Cora pressed her hand to her head, and swayed so far to one side Stiles had to grab her before she fell over. 

"Whoa, hey, okay, let's get you sitting down somewhere." Stiles ushered her into the nearest empty classroom and into a chair. Now that he was looking, Cora was unusually pale, with beads of sweat along her forehead. "You don't look so good. I'd say you look sick, but werewolves don't get—" 

Cora lurched to one side and threw up.

"—sick," Stiles finished lamely, flashing back to Derek puking up black goop in the back of the vet's office. Which, _wait_. "Fuck, what happened? Were you poisoned? Was it wolfsbane?" 

Cora lifted her head long enough to give him the patented unimpressed Hale glare. "Alphas," she gritted out, like the word cost her. "Mistletoe." 

Shit. Stiles knew little about wolfsbane poisoning and even less about mistletoe. "Okay. I'm going to see if the school nurse is still here, because we definitely need someone with medical expertise to take a look at you." 

The door opened, and Stiles jumped up with the lie on his lips. Before he could say a word, Lydia and Allison came in. 

Allison took one look at Cora and cursed. "What happened?"

"Mistletoe poisoning," Stiles said. "The Alphas nabbed her. I'm going to get the nurse." 

Lydia pulled out her phone. "Don't be an idiot. She needs to go to the hospital." 

Cora staggered to her feet. "I don't need a—" 

Her eyes rolled back in her head and she collapsed like a ton of bricks. 

Stiles caught her before she smacked into the hard tile floor, and Allison helped him lower Cora safely to the ground. 

"Cora? Cora!" he shouted, but she didn't respond. He wiped a shaking hand over his face. "Fuck. Lydia?"

Lydia gave him a flat look and pointed to her phone. "I'm at Beacon Hills High School and we need an ambulance. A girl just vomited and collapsed. Yes, she's breathing. No, she's not conscious."

Well, she was handling the authorities. Stiles looked to Allison. "Think you can grab Scott and find out where she came from? Maybe figure out where the Alphas are?" 

Allison nodded once. "I can. Are you going to be okay here?" 

Stiles jerked his thumb at Lydia, who was giving Cora's vital information to dispatch as coolly as if it were the answer to a math problem. "It sounds like she's got it. I'm going to call Derek." 

"Okay." Allison stood. "Call me if anything changes." 

"Will do," Stiles said, and then Allison was out the door.

He took out his phone to dial, but his fingers slipped on the smooth surface. He was shaking too much, his heart tap-danced in his chest, and Cora was going to fucking _die_ because he didn't have the slightest idea of what to do. A real emissary would know how to fix this. 

His phone chose that moment to ring, and Derek's scowling face popped up on the caller ID. 

Stiles answered. "Derek?" 

"What's wrong?" Derek demanded. "It feels like something's wrong." 

"It's Cora." Stiles hoped his voice didn't show how worried he really was. "The Alphas must have grabbed her this morning. She got away, but they poisoned her. Mistletoe."

Derek snarled. "Where are you?" 

"We're at school still. Cora's unconscious, but she's breathing, and—" 

His phone beeped, signaling the end of the call. Derek had hung up on him. 

Stiles pocketed his phone. "Well, okay then." 

Lydia crouched beside them, still on the phone with the dispatcher. "The ambulance is on its way." 

Stiles checked Cora's breathing and pulse. Not that he knew what he was looking for, but he had to do _something_. "Good. That's good. We should probably also call Deaton or something, he might know what the hell to do for mistletoe poisoning." 

Lydia nodded, her free hand wrapped around Cora's wrist. "It'll be fine," she said fiercely. "She'll be fine." 

Stiles wished he could believe her.


	4. Built and Broken

Derek peeled out of his building's parking lot, probably faster than he should have in the Toyota. It didn't handle nearly as well as the Camaro, a fact he often forgot. And the way the clouds were moving in, he really _shouldn't_ forget. It would start storming soon, and if he wrapped his SUV around a light pole, it wouldn't help anyone, least of all Cora. 

He'd texted Peter and Boyd, told them what had happened, and now he was on his way to the high school. Fear itched at the back of his mind, no matter how much he tried to push it away. 

Cora had been kidnapped. 

Cora had been _poisoned_. 

He was the Alpha. He was supposed to protect her from things like that. He was supposed to keep his pack safe from any threats. Instead, he'd failed her yet again, and now Cora was with Stiles. 

_An Alpha who doesn't know how to Alpha and an emissary who doesn't know how to emissary_. 

Derek didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the words. He could only hope that Stiles could help Cora more than he'd been able to. 

He arrived at an intersection, where he needed to turn right to go to the school. 

_Left_. 

Derek frowned and rubbed the back of his neck. Cora was at the high school. He needed to turn _right_. 

But the idea that he needed to go left didn't go away. It felt like a hook in his stomach, pulling him in that direction. 

With a curse, he flipped his blinker the other way and turned left.

***

By the time the ambulance got to the hospital, the sky was nearly black with thunderclouds and a few fat raindrops smacked against the pavement. The paramedics wheeled Cora inside on a stretcher and Stiles followed them, hoping with each step that she'd wake up. So far, she hadn't so much as twitched an eyelid since she'd collapsed in the classroom. And he hadn't heard anything else from Derek. 

"Stiles?" 

He looked up to see Melissa striding toward him. She looked concerned. "What are you doing here?" 

Stiles waved a hand at the room where they'd taken Cora. "I'm with Cora. She's Derek's sister." Did Melissa know that? He wasn't sure. "He's on his way, but—" 

Melissa nodded and steered him toward the room. "Go on, stay with her. I'll let them know where you are. Have you heard from Scott?" 

Stiles checked his phone and shook his head. "Not since school." 

Melissa's lips twisted down. "Okay. I hope he knows better than to ride that damn motorcycle in this weather."

"It's not doing anything yet," Stiles said. 

Mother Nature, of course, chose that moment to let loose a blast of thunder that made Stiles jump, and the hospital lights flickered. 

"Damn it," Melissa muttered. "Stiles, get in the room and stay there."

"But I—" 

Stiles didn't even get a chance to finish his protest before Melissa was off and running. 

He turned to Cora, who looked pale and fragile under the blanket. She still hadn't woken up, and he really wasn't sure how much help the IV was going to be for a werewolf suffering from mistletoe poisoning. 

He should call Deaton. He'd meant to, in the ambulance, but there had been so much going on that he hadn't had a chance. 

And, okay, he didn't totally trust Deaton to give him a straight answer on this, no matter how important it was. Deaton's help tended to be vague at best. 

Outside, lighting flashed, and rain pelted the window harder. Stiles shuddered and pulled his hoodie closer, though the temperature inside hadn't actually changed at all. That storm looked _nasty_.

"Stiles." 

He jerked around at the sound of his name. Derek stood in the doorway, his gaze flicking from Stiles to the bed where Cora lay. Stiles stepped aside and waved at her, and Derek crossed the room in a flash to take Cora's hand in his. Stiles winced at the black lines that ran from Cora's hand into Derek's. 

"She's been out since you called," Stiles said, though that was painfully stating the obvious. "We haven't been here very long—wait, how did you even know to come to the hospital?" 

Derek didn't take his eyes off Cora, and brushed a sweaty lock of hair off her face. "I just...felt like I should." 

"You _felt_ like you should?" Stiles repeated. "Like what, you just followed your nose or something?" 

That got Derek's attention, and he looked up from Cora long enough to glower at Stiles. "I'm not a dog." 

"No, but I've seen both you and Scott track shit by scent, so don't give me that bullshit like it's a ridiculous question!" Stiles said. 

"It's because he's the Alpha." 

Stiles whirled at the new voice. Peter leaned against the door frame, oily smirk in place, and then he sauntered on in. Boyd was right behind him, glaring daggers in Peter's direction, and he gave the man a wide berth on his way to Cora's bedside. 

"Wow, glad to see you could crawl out from under your rock long enough to join us," Stiles said. 

Peter narrowed his eyes at him. "She's my niece and my pack. Where the hell do you think I'd be?" 

"Oh, I can think of a few places." 

"Stop it," Derek cut in. "Both of you." 

Peter held up his hands, like he was totally innocent in all this. "My apologies, nephew." 

Stiles shoved his hands in his pockets, but he didn't quit giving Peter the evil eye. Just because Derek may have forgiven him for all the shit from sophomore year didn't mean that Stiles had.

"Anyway," Peter smiled pleasantly, "as I was saying, Alphas have a... _unique_ connection to their pack. It gives them a sort of sense about where they are, whether they're in trouble, you get the idea. I've heard emissaries have something similar, though admittedly, I have much less experience with that." 

"Something for which we can all be grateful." Stiles dug his phone back out of his pocket. "I'm going to call Deaton, see if he knows anything about this type of poisoning." 

"You can, but it won't be much help," Peter said. "There really isn't a cure. Not for werewolves, anyway. Why do you think the Alphas chose mistletoe instead of wolfsbane?" 

Thunder rattled the window, and Stiles's hands felt numb. "I don't know, maybe because they raided a Christmas store and had it on hand?" 

Peter rolled his eyes. "It's because it's nearly impossible to cure by any ordinary means. They're trying to weaken the pack, pick us off one by one." 

Derek bared his fangs. "Shut up." 

Peter arched an eyebrow. "Careful with those teeth." 

"She's not doing well," Boyd said quietly. "We've got to do something fast." 

Stiles cursed under his breath and swiped his phone open. He may not have trusted Deaton, but he trusted Peter even _less_. Probably because Peter had the annoying habit of being right more often than not, and the even more annoying habit of knowing just which of Derek's buttons to press. 

Peter leaned on the wall next to Cora's bed. "You're wasting time we don't have." 

Stiles lifted his phone to his ear and raised his middle finger in Peter's direction. "We need all the help we can get right now." 

Peter held up his hands in surrender and picked a cloth off the table to wipe down Cora's head. His face softened with a concern Stiles hadn't seen from him before. 

Times like this, he wondered if Peter had always been an opportunistic asshole, or if something in the fire had twisted him, had changed him from a man who loved his family into the one Stiles knew and hated. 

The phone call to Deaton went to voicemail. Of course it did. Stiles mimed throwing his phone across the room; much as he _actually_ wanted to do so, he couldn't afford a new one right now, especially not since he'd just bought this one a few months ago to replace the one he'd dropped in the pool at the high school. 

Lightning flashed outside, and thunder cracked loud enough that all three of the werewolves in the room snarled. The lights flickered again, long enough that Stiles worried they wouldn't stay on. 

Boyd glanced at the door. "Where the hell are all the doctors? Shouldn't one of them have come in here by now?" 

"We don't need a doctor," Derek said. 

"Melissa's probably steering them away from here," Stiles said. "Since, you know, they aren't exactly equipped to handle this sort of thing." 

Peter gave him a flat look. Now Stiles saw where Derek and Cora had inherited it. "Any luck getting the good veterinarian on the phone?" 

Stiles ground his teeth and shoved the phone back into his pocket. "Voicemail." 

Derek looked grim. "Any chance he'll get back to you within the hour?" 

"There's _a_ chance," Stiles said. "I'm not sure how much of one, but there's definitely a chance." 

Boyd rested his hand on Cora's forehead. "Her breathing doesn't sound good."

Derek gripped her hand, drawing away more pain. "The longer we wait, the harder it's going to be to fix." He turned to Stiles. "Can you try again?" 

Peter spread his arms. "I'm telling you, there isn't a cure for this kind of poisoning. At least, not the way you're thinking." 

Stiles _really_ wanted to hit him.

"What do you mean?" Derek asked. 

"There are stories of Alphas who had the power to heal their Betas." Peter shrugged. "Granted, it's been years since I've read them—" 

"Get to the point," Stiles snapped. 

Peter huffed, as though he were offended. "When the sickness was too great, when the rare illness had passed the point of no return, a skilled Alpha _could_ sacrifice their power to save their Beta's life. Of course, it was very rare to run into an Alpha willing to give up that level of power. _Very_ rare." 

Stiles couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Are you saying the only way to save Cora's life is for Derek to _give up_ his Alpha power entirely? And what, become human?" 

"And become a Beta himself," Peter corrected. "That's the thing about werewolves. Our positions within the pack are...fluid." 

Stiles did _not_ like the number of teeth Peter was smiling with. 

He turned to Derek, because Derek _could not_ be considering this as a legitimate step. But Derek was looking from Peter to Cora, stricken and vulnerable, like he wasn't only considering this step but _actively figuring out how to take it._

"No," Stiles said. "No, no, _hell_ no. Or have you forgotten that there's a pack of Alphas out there trying to kill us?" 

"Stiles," Derek said quietly. 

"He's lying," Stiles shot back, because _no_. So much no. All the no. "He's got to be."

"And what in the world would I gain from lying?" Peter asked. 

Stiles took a step forward, fists clenched at his sides. "I don't know, but just because I don't know doesn't mean there isn't a benefit for you in there somewhere." 

"He's not lying," Derek said, and he just sounded exhausted. 

Peter raised an eyebrow, as if to say _See?_

Stiles wanted to jump across the room and rip Peter's fucking throat out because clearly it hadn't taken when Derek had done it. Just because Peter wasn't lying didn't mean there was no ulterior motive. "Look, we all want to save Cora, but now is really not the best time to be considering _de-_ powering our pack!"

"I don't _care_ about power!" Derek turned to him, eyes glowing red. Then his gaze dropped back to Cora. "Not anymore." 

Of course, of course, of fucking course. Derek had lost his entire family in a fire, and then Erica, and very nearly Boyd. The asshole had a martyr complex a mile wide. _Of fucking course_ he would consider giving up everything to save the only family he had left. 

And Peter would fucking know that. 

Stiles stalked over to the bed and grabbed Derek's shoulder. "You're not doing this alone." 

"I'm the Alpha," Derek said. "I have to do it alone." 

Stiles glanced over at Boyd, hoping to get someone else to commiserate with him on how unbelievably stupid Derek was being, but Boyd hadn't taken his eyes off Cora for more than three seconds since he'd entered the room. No help there. 

"No, you don't," Stiles said. "You have a pack, you self-sacrificing _idiot_. And you're bonded to your pack, right? That's why we had the whole," he waved from his chest to Derek's, "weird light thing last night, that's why you knew where to find Cora even though I didn't tell you we were on our way to the hospital. And packs share power, right? The more Betas, the stronger the Alpha, and the stronger the Alpha, the stronger the Betas?" 

Derek stared at him like Stiles was speaking another language. To his surprise, it was Boyd who answered, "That's right." 

Stiles blinked, but recovered quickly. "Okay then. So if you share a bond with your pack, it stands to reason you could use _that_ power to help cure her, not just your own." 

Thunder crashed outside—how appropriately dramatic—but thankfully the lights stayed steady. Derek was _still_ staring at him like he was speaking in tongues or some bullshit. 

Derek finally broke his gaze away from Stiles and looked down at Cora. "I can't ask you to do that. She's my sister, I'm the Alpha, this is my responsibility." 

_And I bet my college tuition Peter knew you'd think that when he threw this fucking idea out there_ , Stiles thought, but kept his mouth shut. 

"You're not asking us." Boyd straightened to his full height. "We're telling you. You might be the Alpha, but she's our pack, too." 

Stiles flung his hand out at Boyd. " _Thank_ you, Boyd. Listen to him. He's making sense." 

Derek looked between the two of them. Stiles couldn't be sure, but it seemed like his determination to do this alone was waffling. Good. 

He chanced a quick glance at Peter, who stood closer to the door now, but couldn't read his expression. He could only hope he wasn't playing right into whatever hand Peter was dealing. 

"Derek," Stiles said softly. "We'll do this together. _Our_ pack." He gave the word as much emphasis as he could. "You aren't alone anymore." 

Thunder rumbled again, and Derek jerked like he'd been electrocuted. Stiles had a feeling he'd hit closer to the mark with that last statement than Derek would've liked. 

"Okay," Derek said. "We'll do it together." 

"Good," Stiles said. 

Peter sauntered closer. "Do you even know what you're doing?" 

"Nope," Stiles said. "But I imagine if you get your ass over here and hold hands so we can sing werewolf Kumbaya, we'll figure it out." 

Peter scowled, but he stepped up beside Boyd and held out his hands. 

Boyd gave Stiles a plainly irritated look, but he grabbed Peter's hand and then reached across the bed to grab Derek's shoulder. Stiles tightened his grip on Derek's other shoulder, and then took Peter's hand with only the mildest of shudders. 

Derek had one hand holding Cora's and the other wrapped around her wrist. "Are you sure this will work?" 

"Sure," Stiles said. "Ninety percent." 

" _Stiles_." 

"Okay, so more like sixty, but come on, dude, it's not like we've got a lot of options here." He squeezed Derek's shoulder. "Just do what you've been doing, but, you know, try to draw from all of us instead of just yourself." 

Derek glowered in such a way that Stiles interpreted it as he wasn't being very helpful, but hey. He was flying just as blind as Derek was at the moment, maybe even more so since he didn't have years and years of experience as a supernatural creature to back him up. 

Oh well. It wasn't like he had a lot of time to worry about that right now. Flying by the seat of his pants had worked pretty well against Kali and the twins last night, so Stiles was willing to give the same strategy a go right now.

He closed his eyes and thought about his spark, thought about the pack bond between him and Derek and Boyd and Peter and Cora, thought about the little flash of light that had jumped between him and Derek when he'd made the pledge to be their emissary. He thought about how he'd made an ash circle on fucking _water_ and held it in place long enough to force not one, not two, but _three_ Alphas to call it a draw and leave. 

Whatever the Alphas had done to Cora, they could fix it. Their pack might be young, but they _could_ be strong. 

And _there_. Stiles felt something warm and solid in his core, like when he looked over the questions on a test and realized that he knew all the answers. He could do this. They could do this. The Alphas were not as good as they thought they were, and they wouldn't pick this pack apart.

He felt Derek drawing away Cora's pain, felt him drawing away the poison, and saw the way it ate at his power, a sickly green leeching at the edges of the strong red of Derek's...Alpha-ness. And Stiles just...boosted it. He nudged his own spark through the bond, leveling Derek's power back up, and did the same with Boyd and with Peter. Their power all had different colors, but he could _see_ the pack bond, see the circle it made through all five of them, see the way Cora's link was weaker and sicker than the others. 

Well, _that_ wouldn't do. 

Stiles pushed his spark through Derek and into Cora, strengthening her part of the pack bond. He watched the darkness of the poison vanish, drawn into Derek's part and burned away by the Alpha power there. It flickered and dimmed, becoming a duller red, but Stiles evened it out with his own spark, with bits of Boyd's stronger gold power and Peter's blue. 

They were doing it. It was _working_.

The darkness of the poison vanished entirely, and Cora opened her eyes and gasped. 

Stiles heard a _pop_ in the back of his mind, and then he was out of whatever special emissary vision had allowed him to see the pack bonds like that. The room swam, and he had to grip the bed until he was steady once again. That...was a _lot_ of energy he hadn't expected to use. 

Derek grunted and went down like a sack of potatoes. 

"Shit!' Stiles crouched beside him. "Are you okay?" 

"I'm fine," Derek grumbled, but he still sounded like he was in pain. 

"Yeah, that's super believable." Stiles got an arm around Derek's shoulders. "Come on, let's get you to the chair or something."

Derek shoved him away. "Is Cora okay?" 

"I'm _fine_ ," Cora said, and Stiles whirled around so fast he nearly smacked Derek in the face. 

Cora sat up in the bed, still pale but already looking _way_ better than she had just a few minutes ago. Boyd had a hand on her shoulder, whether to keep her steady or to take her pain, Stiles couldn't say. 

Derek's face softened immeasurably. "Cora." 

Cora narrowed her eyes, but there was too much disbelief and fondness in her face for Stiles to think she was actually angry. "I can't believe you did that." 

"You're my sister," Derek said, like that was all the explanation it needed. 

Hell, it probably was. 

Stiles took Derek's arm again. "Okay, come on, dude, let's get you somewhere that isn't on the hospital floor. Boyd?" 

Boyd didn't look like he wanted to step too far away from Cora, but he came around the bed and helped Stiles get Derek into the chair. Derek grunted with the movement. 

But Stiles wasn't done with him yet. "Your eyes, show me your eyes." 

He didn't _think_ Derek had lost his power, but he couldn't be sure. He could still see the way the bold red power faded and dimmed as Derek had pulled the poison out of Cora and into himself. 

Derek sighed, like he was so damn put-upon, and opened his eyes. 

Bright red Alpha eyes. 

Stiles let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and sagged onto the wall for support. He wiped a shaking hand over his face. Holy shit, it had worked. It had actually _worked._

"Good work, nephew," Peter said, though Stiles couldn't tell if he meant it or not. 

Derek grabbed Stiles's hand. "Thank you," he said, with no small amount of feeling. 

His first thought was to say _no problem_ or _no big deal_ , but he knew damn well it _was_ a big deal. "I, uh...yeah," he finally said, very articulately. "Our pack, remember?" 

Derek's eyes bored into his. "Our pack," he repeated. 

The words sent a shiver down Stiles's spine, though whether good or bad, he couldn't say. For better or worse, he'd thrown his hat in with Derek. _This_ was what he'd chosen. 

His phone rang, cutting through the silence in the room, and Stiles nearly jumped out of his skin trying to answer it. His dad's face was on the screen, and his heart sank. "Hey, Dad, Daddy-o. What's—" 

"Where are you?" Dad demanded. 

"Uh." Stiles debated a lie for all of two seconds, but too many people had seen him with Cora and at the hospital, including Melissa. "I'm at the hospital. A girl collapsed and I came with her here until her family could get here." 

"And what girl is this?" 

Stiles left the room and went into the hallway to get some semblance of privacy, even though he was pretty sure all four werewolves would still be able to hear both sides of the conversation. "Cora Hale."

"Hale," Dad repeated flatly. "As in Derek Hale?" 

"Well, you know, I don't like to make assumptions just because they have the same last—" 

" _Stiles_." 

Stiles rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Yes, she's Derek's sister. Younger sister."

"And you followed her to the hospital out of the kindness of your heart?" 

"She collapsed on me!" Stiles protested. "What was I supposed to do, leave her in the chem classroom?"

Dad sighed. "Is her family there?" 

"Yes?" 

"Good. Then I want you to get home. Now." 

"What? Why?" 

"Because the storm's getting worse and I'd feel better knowing you were somewhere safe." 

Stiles looked around the hallway. "I'm at the hospital. I'm not sure it gets much safer than this." 

Dad spoke to someone on the other end of the phone, but Stiles couldn't quite make out what he was saying or who he was talking to. "Stiles. _Please_. Can you just go home? Or, failing that, come pick Scott up and go to _his_ house?" 

"Scott?" His dad wasn't at the sheriff's station, then. "Dad, where are _you_?" 

"The high school. And before you ask, no, I'm not telling you why." 

"But Dad!" Stiles flailed, looked around, and lowered his voice. "You can't just tell me you're at the high school and not tell me _why_. Is everyone okay?" 

As soon as he asked the question, he got the horrible, gut-churning feeling that the answer was _no_. 

His dad's hesitation didn't help. "Stiles. Just go home." 

A new and more horrible thought jumped to the forefront of his mind. "Is it Scott?" 

"Scott's fine. Allison's fine. And now I need to know you're going somewhere that _you_ will be fine." More voices on the other end that Stiles couldn't make out, and then his dad said, "I've got to go. I'll see you at home." 

"Love you," Stiles said, but his dad had already hung up. 

Shit. Shit shit shit. He could think of several reasons for his dad to be at the high school, but none of them were good. 

His phone buzzed with a text. Stiles expected it to be from his dad, telling him once more to get home, or failing that, maybe from Scott. 

But it was neither. 

**From: Ally A**  
_There's been another sacrifice @ school._  
_A teacher._  
_Lydia's missing._

Stiles's blood ran cold. Fuck, _fuck_ , so that was why his dad was there. And this was probably only the first; there would be at least two more. 

**To: Ally A**  
_I'll be there in 15._

He was halfway down the hall when he remembered he hadn't brought his Jeep to the hospital. Stiles cursed under his breath and ran back to Cora's room. 

"I need a ride back to the high school," he said as soon as he was through the door. "There's been another sacrifice. And Lydia's missing." 

Cora struggled out of the bed. "I'm coming." 

Derek pushed her back down. "The hell you are," he said, and threw his keys to Stiles.

Stiles caught them and gaped. Derek hadn't even _hesitated._ "What? Are you sure?" 

Derek jerked his head at the door. "We'll find another ride. _Go._ "

He didn't need to be told twice. Stiles backed toward the door. "I'll call you as soon as I know anything." 

With that, he bolted down the hallway, hoping against hope he wouldn't be too late.

***

Derek listened as Stiles's rapid heartbeat, and then his footsteps, faded as he ran down the hallway and left the hospital. 

Cora punched him in the shoulder. "Why the hell didn't you let me go?" 

He took the hit and winced. "Because you're still recovering. And I need you at your best." He looked to Boyd. "Both of you." 

Boyd crossed his arms. "Don't worry. I'm already there." 

Peter snorted. "And what about me?" 

The attitude made Derek grit his teeth; Peter may have been part of his pack, but that didn't mean Derek trusted him. "You too." He looked out at the raging storm. "Full moon's tonight. And I don't think this storm is natural." 

"It's not just the full moon," Peter said, all condescension and fangs. "Or have you forgotten? It's also the eclipse."

Derek tensed at the reminder. The lunar eclipse was the only time they would be completely powerless, utterly human. And he knew very little about how druidic magic worked, but it wasn't hard to guess a full moon combined with a lunar eclipse would be important for the Darach as well. There was a good chance all the sacrifices they'd been making over the past few weeks would culminate tonight, for whatever their ultimate goal was. 

Lightning flashed, and the power flickered once again. 

Derek itched to get out of here, back to his loft where he could better protect his pack. "Boyd, go find Melissa. Tell her Cora's awake and we need to leave. Peter, bring your car around." 

Boyd hesitated just a second, one hand still on Cora's arm, and then he left the room. 

Peter watched him go dubiously. "I'm not sure we'll all fit comfortably in my car." 

Derek rolled his eyes. "We'll make it work." 

His phone rang, and he answered it without looking. "Stiles, what's going on?" 

"Stiles?" Jennifer's voice said. "Why would one of my students be calling you?"

Jennifer. Derek had completely forgotten about her. What was wrong with him? "Jennifer, sorry," he said. "Are you okay? I heard there was another death at the school." 

"I'm fine," Jennifer said, but she sounded quiet, subdued. "It's just been rough. We meant to have the memorial concert tonight, but with the new death, I just—" 

Derek nodded into his phone, though he knew she couldn't see it. "Moving it's probably best, then." 

"Can you come over here?" she asked. "I just really need to see you right now." 

He almost said _yes,_ because that was what he was supposed to say. Two days ago, he would have. But now...he didn't want to, he felt no pull to, and he needed to stay with his pack. "I can't, I'm sorry. My sister's in the hospital. I need to stay with her." 

"There's no one else who can stay with her?" Jennifer said. "Please, Derek, I'm just—" 

"There's no one," he cut her off. His skin was crawling; why was his skin crawling at her voice? "I can't leave her here alone." 

"Okay, I understand," Jennifer said, mollifying. "Will you be heading out soon? Can I meet you at your loft?" 

No. He didn't want her there. Not with his pack. Never mind that she'd been there before, never mind that he'd had her in his bed. Right now, the idea of bringing Jennifer back into the loft sent a chill up his spine. She was practically a stranger, and she wasn't pack. "You should probably go home," he said. "Get some rest. I'll come by to check on you later." 

"But Derek," her voice trembled, "I'm scared. This is really frightening, and I'd feel so much better if I could be with you." 

Her voice tugged at him, like a fish hook in his chest. She was his girlfriend, wasn't she? He should go check on her, make sure she was all right—

But he didn't _want_ to. He wanted to stay with his pack, wanted to keep her away from them. And that was...strange. He should want to see her, shouldn't he? And he sure as hell shouldn't feel this overwhelming need to keep her _away_. 

"I'm sorry," he said, because he was. "But I have to be with my sister. I can't leave my family right now. I'll come by later, I promise." 

Jennifer was quiet for a few minutes, long enough that Derek thought the call had dropped. 

"Come on, Derek," she said, her tone so different from what it had been moments before that Derek was thrown. "Sure there's nothing I can do to change your mind?" 

The way she said it made his stomach churn, and resolved his determination to keep her the fuck away from his pack. "No," he said shortly. "You can't." 

He hung up before she could say anything else. 

"Trouble in paradise?" Peter asked. 

Derek scowled and shoved his phone back in his pocket. 

"Did you just tell your girlfriend to fuck off?" Cora asked, eyes wide. 

"She's not my girlfriend," Derek said automatically, and wasn't _that_ a weird thing to say right after he'd thought that she was. 

Cora flinched. 

_Damn it._ "She's not more important than you," he said, softening his tone. 

Cora stared at him as though he were crazy, before giving him a small smile, probably the first real one he'd seen from her in the weeks since he'd found her again. 

"As touching as this is, _not_ being your girlfriend makes your conversation a little strange, don't you think?" Peter said. 

Derek sighed. Of course Peter had listened in on the entire conversation. Granted, sometimes it couldn't be helped, but it was still rude to mention it. "Why, because she wanted me to come see her when one of her colleagues has been murdered?" 

"No." Peter shook his head. "I meant her insistence on seeing you. How long have you two been dating—or not dating, as the case may be?" 

Derek rubbed his eyes. "Not very long. We haven't..." He trailed off, trying to remember. 

Their first night together—when he'd collapsed in the school parking lot, bleeding, and Jennifer had taken him back to his loft—felt fuzzy and unreal, like maybe it had been a dream and he just hadn't completely woken up. The feeling had followed him for the rest of the week. Last night—or this morning, really—was the first time it felt like it had lifted, but now that he'd been talking to her, Derek was just as confused as he had been before. 

He remembered this morning, the sensation that magic had been broken so the emissary-Alpha bond between him and Stiles could form, and a cold coil of dread tightened in his gut. "Magic." 

"Magic?" Peter repeated, raising an eyebrow. "What the hell are you talking about?" 

She'd been trying to use magic on him over the phone, why? It didn't matter. If she could use magic—especially if she used magic on someone without their consent—there was a good chance Jennifer wasn't as innocent in all this as Derek had previously thought. 

He fumbled to get his phone back out. Stiles was at the high school, along with his dad, and probably Lydia and Allison and Scott. He had to let them know what he suspected about Jennifer, or else—

Boyd came back into the room. "I can't find Melissa." 

"She may be on break." Derek hit the call button and put the phone to his ear. "See if you can find her in the break room." 

Boyd shook his head. "That's what I thought, but I followed her scent all over the hospital, and it ends outside. I can't find her anywhere." 

Shit. Well, they didn't really _need_ to do much to get Cora checked out of here; she was fine, but Derek didn't want anyone to have any reason to come after them. "It's okay. She might have gone to lunch. We'll just—" 

Stiles picked up. "Derek." 

Even across the phone, there was enough terror in Stiles's voice to bring every other thought in Derek's head to a screeching halt. He turned away from Boyd, turned all his attention to Stiles. "Stiles, you need to get your dad and get out of the school. I think Jennifer can use magic, and—"

"She can," Stiles said. "Derek, she's the Darach." 

Derek froze. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cora, Boyd, and Peter all stiffen, but he couldn't bring himself to care that they were listening in. "How do you know? What happened?" 

Stiles's breathing was too shallow, too fast. Derek hated that the little piece of plastic and metal and glass in his hand was the only connection they had. 

"Stiles," he said again. "Talk to me. What happened?" 

"She...she had Lydia. She was going to sacrifice her, because she's a banshee—" 

"A banshee?" Peter exclaimed. 

Derek waved a hand to shush him. 

"My dad stopped her before—" Stiles's voice broke. "Derek, it's my dad. The Darach took my dad."

Derek's blood ran cold, and he had to take a deep breath before he could speak again. "Stiles. Get the others, meet at the loft. We'll find her. We'll find _him_ , okay? I promise, nothing is going to happen to your father." 

Stiles took a long, shaky breath on the other side of the phone, but didn't otherwise respond. 

"Is Scott with him?" Boyd asked. "Or Isaac?" 

Derek started to ask what Boyd meant by that, but Boyd looked half a second from jumping across the room and grabbing the phone out of Derek's hand. He put the phone on speaker and held it out so Stiles could hear. 

Boyd walked closer. "Is Scott there? Or Isaac?" 

"What?" Stiles said. "Why the fuck would you want to know—" 

"Is there someone there who can tell us how she _smelled_?" Boyd cut in. 

"Yeah, hold on." 

There was some rustling on the other end, voices talking softly enough that Derek couldn't make out what they were saying.

He looked at Boyd and raised an eyebrow, trying to figure out where he was going with this. Boyd just met his gaze steadily, a twitch of his jaw the only sign how worried he was. 

"Did you smell something here?" Derek asked. 

Boyd nodded once. 

"Scott says she smelled like—hold on—like something musty and rotting, but also like burned toast? Like someone set a fire in a swamp." 

Derek closed his eyes. When this was all over, they really needed to teach Scott how to articulate what he smelled. 

"Okay," Boyd said. "Then we have more of a problem." 

"What?" Stiles said. "What the fuck, what _more_ of a problem could we have?" 

Boyd's eyes flicked back up to Derek. "I think the Darach took Melissa, too."


	5. Past and Present

Derek broke nearly every traffic safety rule getting them back to the loft as fast as he could. Rain pounded down, obscuring the windshield almost as fast as the wipers could whip it off, but they made it back to his building without any issues. 

Stiles's Jeep was already sitting in the parking garage, along with Derek's Toyota and a car Derek was pretty sure was either Allison's or Lydia's. 

He and Boyd helped Cora out of the car, and then they and Peter ran for the building doors. The rain echoed off the concrete of the parking garage, punctuated by the occasional crack of thunder. 

"This isn't a natural storm," Peter said. 

"No shit," Boyd said. 

Derek wasn't surprised to reach his loft and see that Stiles was already there, along with Scott, Lydia, Allison, and Isaac. He _was_ surprised to see Deaton with them, and the two maps of Beacon Hills spread out over his table. 

Derek pointed to the couch. "Cora, sit." 

"I'm _fine_ ," she muttered, but the fact that she went without any other protest told Derek she wasn't quite as fine as she wanted to be. 

Boyd followed her, and Derek went straight to Stiles, who was pacing the kitchen and popping his knuckles. 

He looked pale and unnaturally small, eyes rimmed red like he'd either been crying or just holding back tears. His heart beat as fast as a mouse's, a frighteningly quick thrum that made Derek want to rip the town apart to find the sheriff. 

He rested his hand on Stiles's shoulder. "Can you tell me what happened? Exactly?" 

"I don't—" Stiles hugged himself and shook his head. "I don't know. I just know what I told you on the phone." 

"I found Ms. Blake with the knife she was using to kill teachers," Lydia spoke up. 

Derek looked over at her and blinked. Of all the people here, he hadn't expected her to be the one to start filling him in. "Teachers?" he repeated. "I thought there was only one." 

Lydia raised her head high, and Derek could see an angry red mark around her neck, like someone had tried to strangle her. He felt vaguely ill. "Only one body found before we called the sheriff's station. We found two more after they got there." She spread her hands on the map draped over the table. "She said she was going after the Alphas, that the sacrifices were a necessary evil to give her the power to kill them. She said she only had one set of sacrifices left to make before the eclipse tonight." 

One set meant three sacrifices. Three more people to die, and she already had two. "So she needs one more for that." 

"No," Allison said, voice shaking. "She has three. My dad was gone when I went home to get weapons."

"And I smelled the same thing there that Scott did at the school," Isaac said. "The weird rotting-burning thing." 

"Same thing I smelled at the hospital," Boyd said from where he sat on the couch beside Cora.

"But what do they have in common?" Cora asked. "That's what the sacrifices are for, right? The people have to have something in common? Melissa's a nurse, Argent's a hunter—"

"They're all parents," Derek said, and then because it probably needed to be added," Single parents." 

Stiles stopped his pacing and stared off into nothing. "Guardians." 

"What?" Allison said. 

"Guardians," Stiles repeated. "You said," he pointed to Deaton, "there were different classes of sacrifice, that she could _take_ something specific from each of them. Virgins, warriors, healers, teachers, guardians. And what do you legally call someone who acts as a parent for someone, but isn't one?" 

Derek looked to Isaac, and then made himself look away again. "Their guardian." 

"Fuck." Stiles wiped a hand over his face. "She's gonna fucking kill them." 

"Not yet," Lydia said. "It sounded like she had to wait until it was closer to the eclipse in order to get the most power. So she's probably holding them somewhere until it's time."

Stiles flung his arms out. "And do you really think we're going to be able to find them before that happens? Do you have any idea how huge this town is? They could be anywhere!" 

Allison pointed at the map. "The other sacrifices were found on or near the convergence of ley lines. She's probably got them all hidden somewhere near one of those." 

Stiles stalked over to the table and waved his hands over the map. "Even if we split up, there's no way we'll have time to check every single one of these places. And what if we did, but we still missed one? We can't—" 

His heartbeat spiked again. Derek walked over and gripped the back of Stiles's neck, trying to calm him down. "We've also got five werewolves here who can track by scent." 

"Six!" Cora shouted. 

"You're recovering!" Derek shouted back. 

Cora bared her fangs and flashed her eyes yellow. "Like hell I'm staying behind when you all go out there to find them." 

"There's a good chance she'll know how to mask their scents," Deaton said, the first he'd spoken since Derek had walked into the loft. "Depending on your senses might not be the best course of action here." 

Derek felt the growl rise in his throat, and he tamped it back down. "What do you suggest, then?" 

"There's a way to circumvent her sacrifices," Deaton said. "Render them null before she has a chance to perform them." 

Stiles snapped his head up from the map, his amber eyes bright with hope. "Render them null? You mean make it so that she can't sacrifice our parents because nothing will happen? How do we do that?" 

Deaton hesitated. "We make a sacrifice of our own. A willing one, for each of hers." 

"A _willing_ one?" Derek echoed. "You seriously think we'd find three willing people to be _killed_ to save three others?" 

Deaton regarded him mildly. "It would have to be three specific people. Ones already bound by blood to the ones she took." 

No one spoke for a moment. Surely he wasn't suggesting what Derek thought he was suggesting.

"You mean us," Stiles finally said, breaking the silence. "Me, Scott, Allison. You mean you have to sacrifice _us_." 

Deaton nodded. "Yes." 

Derek tightened his grip on the back of Stiles's neck, wanted to haul him away from Deaton, away from the table, away from this awful idea. "Absolutely not." 

Stiles whirled on him, brushing his hand away. "Hey, asshole, you don't get to speak for me." 

"Hey, asshole, I need you _alive_ ," Derek snapped. 

"They won't die for long," Deaton said. "Just enough to make the other sacrifice void, and then we can bring them back." 

Before Derek could point out the myriad flaws of that line of thought, Boyd spoke up. "Yeah, that sounds totally safe and completely foolproof."

"Absolutely nothing could go wrong with that plan," Cora added. "How the hell would she even know we made the sacrifice void? Are we going to text her?" 

"Or instead of voiding it, we'd end up giving her a double-dose of sacrificial power," Boyd said.

Derek crossed his arms and nodded at the couch before he glared meaningfully at Stiles, trying to impress upon him what a terrible idea this was.

Scott stood up, from where he'd been sitting on the floor near Isaac. "I'll do it." 

Isaac jumped to his feet. "Are you out of your mind?" 

"It's my _mom_ ," Scott said. "I don't care what I have to do to get her back, I don't care what the _risk_ is, I'll do it." 

Allison stared vacantly at the map, hands splayed over it, her eyes glistening with tears. Lydia put a hand over Allison's and squeezed it. 

Stiles gnawed at his lips, and then said, "I'm in." 

"No," Derek said. 

"Excuse you?" Stiles glared at him. "Since when is this your decision?" 

"Since you joined my pack and became my emissary," Derek said. "There has to be another way." 

"Oh really? And what other way is that?" Stiles shouted. "Are you just going to call up your supernaturally murderous girlfriend and ask really nicely? Because I'm sure that'll work out just great!" 

Derek took the verbal hit, swallowed, and tried to keep his voice even. "You didn't let me be a self-sacrificing idiot to save my sister. I'm not going to let you be one to save your dad. We can find another way." 

Stiles laughed hollowly and wiped his eyes. "I don't know if you've noticed, dude, but we don't have a lot of time to sift through our options." 

"I found you and Cora, I can find your father," Derek said.

"That's not the same thing, it's..." Stiles trailed off, staring over Derek's shoulder. "Wait. You did find me and Cora. Because we're your pack. How does someone become pack?" 

"Well, you choose it, like you did, or—" 

"Or you're born into it, right? It's blood?" Stiles stepped closer to Derek, but he looked anxious now, excited, not angry. "I'm pack. Would my dad be?" 

Derek wasn't sure; he didn't remember anyone joining his pack any other way. Usually the person in question had made some kind of overture, was aware they were joining the pack. 

But the way Stiles looked at him, eyes burning with determination...

"He's your pack," Derek said with all the conviction he felt. "That makes him mine."

"Can you do your alpha thing and just...figure out where he is?" Stiles asked. 

Derek shook his head. "I think that worked with Cora because she's my sister. I'd need to be stronger, closer to him, have more of an idea—" 

"A boost," Stiles said excitedly. "Like when we drew out the poison." 

Derek considered the suggestion. Drawing out the poison had just been Stiles and the pack boosting his innate Alpha powers. This would be very similar. It could work. "Yes. Like that."

"A searching spell is dangerous for those with little experience," Deaton said. 

"So is _dying_ ," Stiles shot back. 

Derek might have preened a little at that. 

Boyd and Cora came over to the table and stood just behind Lydia and Allison. "Tell us what we need to do," Boyd said. 

Scott slammed his hand on the map. "Are you serious? If this doesn't work—"

"We'll have time to try something else," Derek cut in, and he motioned Boyd and Cora closer. To Stiles, he said, "Tell us what to do."

Stiles dragged his hand through his hair and then planted himself at the head of the table. "Okay. Yeah, we just need to gather round, hold hands, and hopefully we'll be able to figure it out from there." 

"We _will_ figure it out from there," Derek said firmly, and took his place next to Stiles. 

Stiles popped his knuckles. "Okay, anyone who doesn't count themselves a part of this pack, stand back. I'm not sure how this will work with those who aren't in on it." 

To Derek's surprise, Lydia stood and grabbed Cora's hand. "I'm going to help," she declared. "I'm not going to stand back and watch you find more bodies." 

Stiles gaped, but quickly recovered. "Okay. We can work with that." 

Deaton stepped back, a small smile on his face. "You only need one emissary, not two. I'll sit back." 

Derek was privately grateful for that. Deaton may have been his mother's emissary, but he and Derek had almost no relationship to speak of. And Derek was fairly sure any help Deaton _had_ given him was more out of memory and obligation than any real desire to help.

Allison pushed her chair back and stood as well, taking Lydia's hand. "We're in this together," she said, and didn't take her eyes off Derek. "Separating ourselves is why we've lost so much. We all want to protect our families, we all want to protect this town. We should be standing together." 

It felt like an olive branch, extended to bridge the fractured relationship between their families. Derek held her gaze and inclined his chin, accepting it from her, at least. Her father was another story, one they could deal with much later.

From the way Allison smiled in return, he had a feeling she understood.

Isaac looked back and forth from Scott to the table. Derek swallowed hard and fixed his gaze on the map, the black lines sketching out roads and boundaries of Beacon Hills. He had driven Isaac away, and he wasn't sorry for that, wasn't sorry for trying to keep his pack safe, but he was sorry for the wedge it had put between them. And he knew damn well he deserved whatever grudge Isaac bore against him. 

Then Isaac stepped up to stand beside Boyd, and gave an imperceptible nod toward the map. 

Derek let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. He'd expected Boyd and Cora, Stiles, maybe even Peter to step up. He hadn't expected anyone else to want to be a part of this. To want to claim themselves as a part of his pack.

Scott held himself apart, fists clenched as he glared at Stiles. "Are you sure you can do this?"

"For God's sake, Scott, will you just trust me for once in your life?" Stiles shouted. 

The two of them had some kind of silent conversation with nothing but facial expressions and half-aborted hand gestures, one that Derek couldn't understand, but that reminded him so painfully of himself and Laura that it made it hard to breathe.

Finally, Scott nodded, more to himself than to anyone else, and stepped up to the table. "All right. Let's do this." 

Derek took Stiles's hand on his right and Allison's on his left, and watched as the rest of the pack took hold of each other, standing together with hands held tight. 

For a sudden, painful moment, Derek flashed back seven years, standing around the kitchen table with his parents and sisters and grandparents, holding hands just like this. His mother as the Alpha, his father to her right as her mate, and Laura to her left as her heir. 

This was never supposed to be his role, never supposed to be his _life_. He wasn't supposed to be the Alpha, wasn't supposed to stand here with a motley crew of humans and werewolves and _hunters_ , bound together by sheer fucking chance. 

And yet this, right here, was the first time in years that he'd felt like he had a pack again. 

He looked at Stiles, standing to his right, face tight with a fierce determination that Derek had come to recognize and appreciate. Stiles's loyalty and his boneheaded stubbornness were two of his greatest traits, and with him as an emissary, Derek felt like their pack would become a force to be reckoned with. 

_Their_ pack. Huh. 

Stiles looked up from the map, his amber eyes holding just a hint of uncertainty, a question he knew better than to ask aloud. _Can we do this?_

Derek held his gaze steadily, doing his best to answer in such a way that Stiles would get it. _Yes, we can. I believe in you_.

He squeezed Stiles's hand. "We're ready." 

Stiles nodded, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes.

Derek closed his eyes as well so he could concentrate, seeking the feeling he'd had earlier, the one that had told him where Cora was. 

_My pack-mates are missing. They're in danger. I need to find them._

He felt a nudge somewhere in his gut, though whether it was that internal compass or Stiles's magic, he couldn't say. And then—

Beacon Hills appeared in his mind's eye, like he was floating above it. He spotted the Preserve, and then the downtown area, and then he zoomed forward before he could orient himself. 

Derek clenched his teeth and tightened his grip reflexively, then forced his hands to relax. He couldn't hurt Allison or Stiles; they wouldn't heal the way the others would. 

The city flew by underneath him, and he dove deep into the Preserve, well beyond where his mother had let him and his sisters wander when they were children. 

_There's something familiar about this place..._

The thought vanished from his consciousness almost as soon as it had crossed it, and Derek shot out of the trees and into a massive clearing. 

At first glance, he was looking at a tree that was easily twice the size of those around it, with a trunk that had to be ten feet in diameter. Then he blinked, and the tree was gone, the only thing remaining a dead stump that shimmered in the moonlight. 

Derek knew it. 

He knew where he was. 

He blinked again, and he was under the tree in a cellar, roots twisting in the ground above his head. To his left, he saw the sheriff, Argent, and Melissa, all tied up but all alive, all together. 

And to his right, he saw himself, seven years younger, crouched under a canopy of roots and sobbing over the body of a girl in his arms. 

_No!_

Derek turned away from it, tried to close his eyes, but they were already closed. It hurt more than the pipe Kali had shoved through his chest, more than the feeling of Peter's fangs sinking into his arm. 

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he raised his eyes to see Stiles there with him, brow furrowed in concern. 

Derek blinked. 

Wind roared in his ears, like he was caught in a hurricane, and when he opened his eyes again, he was back in the loft. His clawed hand was buried in the middle of the Preserve on the map, with Stiles's hand clasped tightly over his. 

Stiles gaped at the map. "Holy shit. They're here." 

Derek fought to pry his fingers out of the map. His claws had gone deeper into the table than he'd thought; how had he not even felt that? 

"They're here, and they're alive," Stiles said. He grabbed Derek's arm. "You saw them, right?" 

Derek nodded and prayed Stiles hadn't actually seen everything in the root cellar. "I saw them." 

"Then what are we waiting for?" Allison said. "Let's go get them." 

The perimeter alarm started flashing. 

Derek snarled, pushing himself in front of Stiles and Allison. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Isaac and Boyd doing the same, shoving Lydia and Cora into the center of a protective circle of werewolves. Scott followed suit. 

Derek scanned the entrances and exits to the loft, listening for footsteps and heartbeats. Had the Alphas returned? How many were there? Kali had been looking for blood last night, and she hadn't gotten it. He wouldn't put it past her to return as soon as she could, whether Deucalion okayed it or not. 

The door to the loft slid open with a metallic screech, and he flicked out his claws, prepared to defend his pack with his life. An acrid, rotten scent wafted in, sharp enough that Derek almost gagged. 

Jennifer walked through the door and raised her eyebrows at the pack. "All this for little old me? You really shouldn't have."


	6. Scream and Storm

Ms. Blake. Their fucking _English teacher_ , also known as the Darach, also known as the person who had been _killing_ people for three weeks, also known as the one who _had Stiles's dad_. 

Stiles launched at her, with no thought other than tearing her apart with his bare hands. He made it a foot before Derek caught him around the waist and held him back. 

Stiles struggled, but it wasn't much use when an Alpha werewolf was using his full strength to keep him from moving. "Let go of me. I'm going to shove so much mistletoe up her ass it's going to be like Christmas." 

Derek growled low, but Stiles wasn't sure who it was supposed to be warning.

Ms. Blake took an aborted step forward, looking at Derek pleadingly. "Derek." 

His growling increased in volume. "What are you doing here?" 

"I came to see you, I told you—" She stopped and huffed, and the pleading in her expression shifted to annoyance. "What's _wrong_ with you, why aren't you listening to me?" 

"Your spell's broken," Derek said, "so quit trying to use it. Now what are you doing here?" 

"Spell?" Stiles repeated. She'd cast a spell on Derek? "What spell?" 

Ms. Blake narrowed her eyes, assessing them, like she hadn't heard Stiles's question at all. "Hm," she finally said. "So you went and bound yourself to an emissary. Figures." 

Stiles grabbed Derek's arm. "What did she do to you?" 

"Not important right now," Derek said under his breath, and then turned his attention back to Ms. Blake. "I'm not asking again. Either tell us what you're doing here or get the hell out." 

Ms. Blake held up her hands. "I really think we got off on the wrong foot." 

"Gee, what with you murdering people left and right and kidnapping our parents?" Stiles snapped. "Whatever gave you that idea?" 

" _Stiles_ ," Derek said, in a tone that only pissed Stiles off even more. 

"I swear, I just want to talk," Ms. Blake said, hands still held high. 

Allison twirled a knife in her fingers. "Why should we believe that?" 

"Because you know the Alphas are a danger to this town," Ms. Blake said. "What do you think I've been doing here? I'm trying to stop them." 

Stiles was going to lose it on her. "Yeah, all those _murders_ are real helpful with stopping _them_." 

Ms. Blake glared at him, and her pleasant demeanor vanished. "Do you have any idea what they did to their packs? What they've done to Alphas who wouldn't join them?" 

"I'm just going to take a stab at it and say there was a little violence?" Stiles said. "Some death, maybe?" 

"A _little_?" She threw back her head and laughed. "They _slaughtered_ their packs. Betas who depended on them, emissaries who had sworn oaths to protect them. They killed us all for the power." 

"You were in one of their packs," Derek said softly. 

Ms. Blake nodded once, sharply. "I was Kali's emissary. Her girlfriend." 

Her _girlfriend?_ Stiles gaped. He hadn't expected that. 

"I tried to stop her. I did. But I wasn't strong enough." She laughed bitterly. "The only reason I'm not dead is because she didn't bother sticking around long enough to finish me off. I managed to crawl my way to the Nemeton, a sacred tree with great power. It had been cut down years before, severing its power, but someone had recently given the tree a sacrifice." 

Her gaze flicked to Derek, and Stiles felt the way his arm, already tense, went stiff as a bar of metal. 

"It gave me the boost I needed to stay alive," Ms. Blake said. "Granted, it couldn't heal everything..." 

She trailed off, and for a split second Stiles saw her _real_ face, twisted and scarred, before she shook her head and her magic was firmly back in place. 

"Holy shit," Stiles whispered. 

"They did this to me." Ms. Blake clenched her fists. "They deserve to be punished. They deserve to pay." 

"And killing innocent people helps with that _how_ , exactly?" Allison said. 

"They were _sacrifices_ ," Ms. Blake said. "Do you have any idea how powerful Deucalion is? This is the only way I had a chance of beating them. It was a necessary evil. Surely you can understand that." She took a step forward. "But if you're helping me, I won't need any more. Once the Alphas are dead, I can let your parents go." 

Stiles shot a sideways glance at Allison and Scott. Allison was gripping her knife so tightly Stiles was surprised she hadn't bent the metal, and Scott looked like he was torn between agreeing to help and holding her accountable for the murders. The Alphas were bad news, no doubt, but there was no way Ms. Blake was the lesser of the two evils here. 

"We don't have much time before the full moon rises." Ms. Blake took another step forward. "What do you say? Do you want to stop the Alphas? Do you want to save your parents?" 

She didn't know, Stiles realized. She had no idea they knew where she was holding their parents. They just needed to keep her distracted long enough to get there. 

He squeezed Derek's shoulder. "Can you buy us some time?" he whispered, keeping his voice as quiet as possible. "Keep her busy?" 

Derek growled and gave a nigh imperceptible nod in return. "Go." 

And then he lunged at Ms. Blake, claws outstretched.

***

Derek charged at Jennifer, a wild rush that was more for intimidation than effectiveness. She sidestepped him easily and kicked at his leg as he passed. It threw off his balance, sent him crashing shoulder-first into the brick wall of the loft, but when he looked over, Jennifer's gaze was fixed on him. 

Good. 

"So I'm guessing that's a 'no' to my question, then?" she asked. 

Derek pushed himself back to his feet, taking far longer than he needed to stand again. He wanted to keep her gaze right where it was, so she wouldn't see Stiles and Allison sneaking away. "You killed innocent people. You took my pack." 

"Oh, come on, you're really going to claim a hunter as part of your pack?" Jennifer snorted. "After what they've done to you and your kind?" 

Before Derek could respond, Cora sprang, tackling Jennifer from behind. They both hit the floor, skidding toward Derek, and then Cora shot across the floor and slammed into the wall, as if yanked by an unseen force. 

Jennifer stood back up and popped her neck. "Okay then. No help from you, I see how it is. I guess I misunderstood you, Derek." 

He clenched and opened his fists, feeling his claws lengthen. "I guess you did."

Boyd and Scott advanced on her with twin growls, and Cora got back to her feet much quicker than Derek had. 

Derek's eyes widened in surprised. Scott was still here? Why hadn't he gone with Stiles and Allison? 

On that note, where was Isaac?

Deaton stepped forward, from where he'd been hovering at the edge of the room. "You're standing alone against an entire pack in their territory. I would advise you to rethink that course of action."

Jennifer raised her hand. "Oh, trust me, I have no intention of doing that."

Derek wasn't sure what she was about to do, but he had the horrible feeling it was going to end poorly for them. Damn it, they needed to buy more time. 

He jumped at her, knocking Jennifer to the floor and pinning her there. "You're not going anywhere," he snarled around his fangs. 

"Why Derek," she said coyly, "if I'd had any idea you were into _this_ —" 

He tightened his grip on her arms, making sure to press in with his claws just enough so that she'd know they were there. " _Don't_." 

Thunder cracked outside, and the floor-to-ceiling windows exploded inward. 

Derek jerked his head up and realized he'd been distracted a split-second too late. 

Jennifer threw him off her and scurried out of the way. Derek scrambled to his feet to go after her; he wasn't letting her get away. 

"Derek, _duck!_ " Cora shouted. 

He didn't think; he just hit the ground flat. A cane went whizzing over his head, striking Jennifer in the arm. She cursed and flung it away. 

"Pity," a new voice drawled. "I was aiming for her heart." 

Derek froze where he was on the floor. He knew that voice. He knew that _smell_.

He stood to see Deucalion and the rest of the Alpha pack standing in a line by the broken windows. 

On the other side of the loft, Jennifer threw up her hand, and mountain ash spiraled out in a perfect circle, protecting her from them. 

And Derek and his pack were trapped in the middle.

***

Stiles kept waiting for Ms. Blake—for the _Darach_ —to appear out of nowhere and wreck his Jeep, to do anything to keep them from getting away, but halfway through Beacon Hills he relaxed just a hair. If she were going to stop them, she'd have done it already. Derek was keeping her occupied. 

God, he just hoped Derek and the others would be okay. 

"Careful." Allison gripped the dashboard so hard Stiles was surprised she hadn't left marks in it. "The roads are slick." 

The Jeep chose _just then_ to fishtail worryingly, but Stiles kept them on the road with only the most minor of heart attacks. 

"I'm glad I don't get carsick," Isaac quipped from the back.

"Fuck you and read the map like you're supposed to be doing," Stiles snapped back. 

Isaac grumbled, but Stiles heard the telltale sound of paper crinkling. He was glad Allison had remembered to grab the map before they'd snuck out of the loft; he was pretty sure they couldn't put where they were going into Google Maps.

"Uh, it looks like we take the Lost Falls Trail exit off the highway into the Preserve," Isaac said. "Shit, right there!" 

Stiles jerked the wheel to the right, screeching onto the exit ramp in a spray of rainwater. His heart pounded like a snare drum, and honestly if he made it through this without another panic attack it would be a goddamn miracle. "A little more warning next time?"

"Okay, in about two-point-two miles—" 

Allison slammed her fist on the dash. "Oh my _God!_ " 

"We're going to hit the parking lot at the trailhead in a few minutes," Isaac said hurriedly. "We can't drive any farther. We'll have to hike. We'll take the trail, and then it's due north from the first big fork. I can't tell how far it is."

"Hopefully not too far." Stiles could feel his heartbeat in the tips of his fingers. "We probably don't have much time." 

He had no idea what the Darach could do with her freaky dark druid powers, but he would _not_ put it past her being able to teleport out here, sacrifice their parents, and then magic her way back to the loft or wherever she was fighting the Alpha pack. 

_Don't think about that_ , he scolded himself. _Just fucking drive._

The storm got even worse as they drove down the narrow path leading to the trail, forcing Stiles to slow to a crawl just so he could see. Rain beat so hard against the car he couldn't see or hear anything else, except for the occasional flash of lightning and heart-stopping crack of thunder. 

The headlights swept over a faded wooden sign: "BEACON HILLS PRESERVE – LOST FALLS TRAILHEAD."

Stiles swung into the closest spot and put the Jeep in park. He scrambled out into the storm, Allison and Isaac right behind him. 

Isaac ran to the trailhead, and Stiles opened the back of the Jeep. Allison grabbed her bow and quiver, and he grabbed his bat and a small baggie of mountain ash. 

Allison raised an eyebrow. "You think that'll do any good?" she yelled over the storm. 

"Better than nothing!" he yelled back. 

"I can't smell anything!" Isaac called. 

Stiles rolled his eyes and slammed the door shut. "No shit!"

The wind howled, whipping rain and debris around them, and Stiles threw his hand over his face to protect it. Going through the Preserve was going to be actively dangerous at this rate. 

He thought about his dad, tied up and trapped in the cellar under that tree, and tightened his grip on his bat. He looked to Isaac and Allison. "We have to hurry." 

Allison shouldered her quiver. "Lead the way."

***

Derek scanned the room, quickly picking out where his pack was. Boyd was under the table, with Cora and Lydia. Peter was nowhere to be seen, but that wasn't surprising. Deaton had moved slowly back to the hall that led to the bathroom, and Scott was fairly close to him. Isaac, Stiles, and Allison were nowhere to be found.

Good. They'd made it out. Derek could only hope they'd reach their parents in time. 

Jennifer smiled bitterly. "Kali." 

Kali took a step forward, claws out. "Julia." 

_Julia?_ Derek inched backward. He wasn't sure which of them was a greater danger, but he was positive he didn't want to be in the middle when they clashed. 

"Derek!" Deucalion called jovially, sightless eyes pointed right in Derek's direction. "Our apologies for the windows." 

Derek slid another half-inch closer to the kitchen and away from the tension in the living room. "You used the door last time." 

The smile on his face faded into a snarl. "Well, the windows were a bit faster in this particular case. I will pay for them." 

Derek clenched his fists. "What do you want?" 

"The same thing we've wanted from the _beginning_ ," Deucalion said with a sigh, like he was explaining something to a child. "You, in our pack. And I must say, thank you for gathering all of yours in one place to make this so much easier. And the wayward druid as well! Really, you shouldn't have." 

Derek's blood ran cold. They were going to kill his pack right here unless he could stop them. 

Kali tossed her head in his direction. " _Him?_ Really, Julia?" 

Jennifer's hair whipped around her face, and the storm outside howled. "I loved you, and you left me to die!" 

Something in the loft groaned, like metal being twisted. _Shit_. She was going to bring down the building if she wasn't careful. Derek needed to get his pack out of here. 

He looked back at Scott and Deaton, tried to communicate with his eyes that they needed to move closer to the door. Scott started inching toward the kitchen table, where Boyd, Cora, and Lydia were still crouched, but Deaton stood there impassively and flicked his hand one, two, three times.

What the hell was he _doing?_

One of the twins—Aiden, Derek thought—advanced like he was going to stand by Kali. Deucalion sighed heavily and stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Never get involved in a lover's spat, boy. Just let them work it out." 

Jennifer spread her fingers and her eyes glowed a frightening bluish-white. Shards of glass rattled in the metal window frames, and the ones on the ground started to float. "Do you have any idea what you did to me?" 

Kali roared. "I should've killed you when I had the chance!" 

She lunged forward, diving right toward Jennifer, and that was when Derek saw the mountain ash circle had been broken. 

Well, that told him what Deaton had been doing. 

The glass shards shot through the air, right on Kali's heels, and Derek spun and dove under the table next to his pack. Scott was right after him, sliding under next to Boyd. Glass pieces exploded, and Derek could smell blood in the air. 

He glanced at Scott, who looked nervous but determined. Derek _still_ didn't know why he hadn't left. "What are you doing here?" he asked. 

"Helping you." Scott jerked his head at the chaos in the loft. "I'm not leaving you all alone to face _that_." 

Derek shook his head. "No, you're getting out of here. _All_ of you," he added, with a glance at Boyd, Cora, and Lydia. "The depot should still be safe." 

"You're out of your _mind_ if you think we're leaving you here alone," Boyd said.

The memory of Boyd being dragged toward him, inches away from being impaled on his own claws, flashed through Derek's mind. He growled and pushed it away. "No. I can't lose you all," he admitted. "I need to know you're safe." 

Cora grabbed his arm. "And we need to know _you're_ safe, dumbass. You're our Alpha." 

Something shattered and someone screamed. Derek wanted to bash his head against the table. Instead, he flashed his eyes. "Cora, _please_. Take Lydia and get out of here. Scott and Boyd will stay." 

Cora bristled. "What, because they're guys?" 

Derek really didn't remember his mother having this much trouble getting her Betas to do what she asked. "Because they weren't _recently poisoned_." 

Lydia took a deep breath. "You're going to want to cover your ears." 

Scott's eyes went wide. "What? Why?" 

Lydia turned to him. "Because I'm going to scream." 

With that, she scrambled out from under the table and stood up. 

Derek cursed and started to go after her, but Scott grabbed his arm. "Don't!"

"What?" 

Scott covered his ears. " _Banshee_." 

Oh hell. Derek slapped his hands over his ears, and Cora and Boyd did the same. 

A split second later, Lydia screamed.

Even with the precautions, her scream was _loud_. Derek's bones vibrated with it; he would not have been surprised to find his ears were bleeding. He couldn't hear anything else, not even the sound of his own pulse, and that was almost as unnerving as the scream itself. 

The scream faded from the air, and Derek turned to his pack, though his ears were still ringing. "Are you okay?" 

Cora nodded and waved the question away, rubbing at her ears. "Fine. Shit." 

"I'm okay," Boyd said. 

Scott shook his head, looking dazed. 

Derek peeked out from under the table to survey the room. Jennifer and Kali were both on the floor, bleeding. He couldn't tell if they were breathing or not. The twins and Deucalion were reeling, fangs bared and ears covered. He couldn't see Peter or Deaton from his vantage point. 

This was the best chance he'd have to get his pack out to safety. 

He took Cora by the arm, urging her out from under the table. "Come on, come on, let's go." 

They scrambled out from under the table, where Lydia was leaning with one hand over her eyes. Derek grabbed her as well, pulling her along with them. They reached the front door and Boyd yanked it open. The metal screech of it still sounded oddly dull to Derek's ears. 

"Cora." He rested his hands on her shoulders. "I need you to get Lydia out of here."

She set her jaw, a frighteningly stubborn look he never remembered her having before now. "I'm not leaving you." 

" _Please_." Derek was not above begging. "I can't protect her here, and I need _someone_ to." 

"I don't need protecting," Lydia snapped, but she winced and swayed on her feet.

Cora chewed on her lip, eyes darting between Derek and Lydia. "Fine," she finally said. "But we should go together. Why are you even _thinking_ about staying?" 

Derek squeezed her shoulder, trying his best to impart how important this was. "Because I'm the Alpha." 

She narrowed her eyes. "Derek—"

"Because if I don't stop them now, they'll keep coming back." Just the thought of it had a lump forming in his throat. "And I don't want them coming back." 

"And he's not staying alone," Boyd added. 

Derek stared at him. His ears must still have been damaged from Lydia's scream. "You should go with them." 

Boyd crossed his massive arms over his chest. "No. I ran away once. I'm not doing it again." 

The lump in his throat got larger, and all Derek could do was clap Boyd on the shoulder in gratitude. 

"Besides," Boyd cracked his knuckles, "they killed Erica. I owe them some payback." 

Derek nodded and turned to Scott. "Scott?" 

"I sent Isaac to get my mom so I could keep you from getting killed," Scott said. "I'm sure as hell not leaving you behind now." 

Cora groaned, and then lunged forward and hugged Derek around the neck. "If you get hurt, I'm going to _kill_ you." 

He stiffened, the feeling of her arms around him so foreign that he didn't know what to do with it. "I'll be fine," he said, and did his best to believe the words. "Now go, _please_." 

Cora took Lydia's hand and led her out the door. Derek let out a small sigh of relief and dragged it shut once again. 

"Oh, shit," Scott said. 

Derek spun around into a fighting stance, claws out. 

Deucalion had recovered from Lydia's scream and was slowly walking toward them, eyes burning red. His skin turned an ashy gray and his face contorted with each step he took, like someone was molding it into the most terrifying of Halloween masks. 

Derek snarled and let himself shift fully. To his right, Boyd growled, and to his left, Scott unsheathed his own claws. 

"I am the Alpha of Alphas." Deucalion's voice was guttural. "I am the Demon Wolf, and you should not have crossed me. Who do you think you are? You are a child! You are no one!"

Derek straightened, held his head higher than he had since he'd ripped Peter's throat out and become the Alpha he was never meant to be. "I am Derek Hale, son of Talia Hale, and I am the Alpha of this pack and protector of this town. And I _am_ my mother's son." 

Deucalion roared and charged.


	7. Demon Wolf and Darach

Stiles ran along the trail, his feet slapping at the wet asphalt. He hit a patch of mud and skidded, nearly lost his balance, but Allison grabbed him by the sleeve and kept him upright. 

The storm was even worse now. Wind whipped rain and leaves at them, obscuring the trail. The trees swayed with each gust, massive branches bending so close to the ground Stiles was positive they were going to snap in two. 

An image sprang into his mind of the cellar filling with water, his dad trapped and unable to get out—

_No_. No, he wasn't going to let that happen. He wasn't going to lose his dad, not like this. They were going to find that fucking tree. 

The trail forked, and he turned north, Isaac and Allison right behind him. It wasn't too much farther now, not if he remembered the map correctly. 

The trail turned sharply right, and Allison grabbed his arm. "That's the wrong direction!" 

"What do you mean?" Stiles yelled back. "We took the north fork, we're following the right trail!" 

She pointed off into the woods with her bow. "We have to keep _going_ north!" 

Lightning flashed, and Stiles could see another trail—a faint path that was mostly mud and barely visible through the darkness under the trees—snaking off to the north. 

"She's right," Isaac said. "We're off the trails now." 

Stiles cursed and dragged his hand through his wet hair, and suppressed a shudder. "Okay. Running through gigantic trees during a lightning storm. Good decision." 

He plunged forward onto the path anyway, fighting his way through the wet underbrush growing over the muddy path. Lightning flashed overhead, followed by a crack of thunder that made him jump out of his skin, as if the weather itself was underscoring what a terrible idea this was.

He hoped Derek and the others were okay back at the loft. Surely they were. Surely the pack could handle the Darach by herself. 

Stiles had no idea how long they stumbled through the woods, but suddenly the trees split and they burst into a clearing. Smack in the middle was a massive stump, easily ten feet across if not more. 

"There!" Stiles shouted, and broke out into a sprint. 

_Dad Dad Dad Dad..._

The words beat in his head, matching the pounding of his feet. They'd made it here; he could only hope that they weren't too late. 

"Over here!" Isaac shouted, waving them around to the back of the stump. 

Sure enough, there was a wooden door on the ground with an old metal loop in the center of it. Stiles was no expert, but the door looked much newer than the latch on it. 

Isaac reached to open it. The door flashed blue, and he ended up five feet back on his ass. 

Stiles wiped rain off his face, for all the good it did. "She must have shielded it against werewolves or something." 

Allison grabbed the metal loop and yanked the door open, and Stiles helped her pull it the rest of the way. The cellar underneath smelled musty and unused, and the stairway disappearing into the dark looked just like it was out of a fucking horror movie. 

"Can you get inside now?" Stiles asked.

Isaac waved his hand across the threshold. "Looks like it." 

"Here! We're down here!" someone yelled from below.

Stiles’s heart jumped. It was Melissa's voice.

"Melissa!" he yelled, and stampeded down the rickety stairs. "Dad!" 

"Stiles?" his dad's voice called back, and Stiles could have cried in relief. 

It was nearly pitch black under the tree, and roots dangled from the ceiling, but Stiles dove forward and miraculously avoided smacking into any of them. He wiped away dirt and cobwebs and looked around the cellar. "Dad?" 

"Over here!" 

He dropped his bat, ran straight for his dad's voice, and plowed into a human-shaped lump on the floor, hugging him as hard as he could. His dad gave a quiet _oof_. "I can't hug you back with my hands like this, son." 

Stiles pulled back. His eyes still hadn't adjusted to the dark, but he felt at his dad's wrists. Bound with rope. His ankles were, too. "Hey, can I get some sharp pointy things over here?" 

"Wait your turn," Isaac grumbled from off to Stiles's right.

Allison grabbed Stiles's hand and put something metal in it. One of her ring daggers, if he had to guess. "Be careful with that." 

"Will do," he said, and cautiously cut away the ropes around his dad's wrists. 

Dad groaned and rubbed his wrists once they were freed. "How'd you find us?" 

Stiles turned his attention to the ropes around his dad's ankles, feeling for them to make sure he wouldn't cut into anything else. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." 

"Son, I was kidnapped because I stopped a woman who turned into a scarred monster from murdering your classmate, who she claimed was a banshee," Dad said. "I saw Scott grow claws and a frankly impressive pair of muttonchops. And Mr. Argent's been explaining the existence of the supernatural while we've been stuck down here praying that lady doesn't come back and kill us all. At this point I'd believe it if you told me you teleported here directly from the moon."

Stiles laughed weakly, and this time when he put his arms around his dad, Dad fiercely hugged him back. "There might have been magic involved," Stiles admitted. 

Dad sighed. "We need to have a talk when we get back home. A _long_ one." 

Stiles winced at the words, and was privately glad his dad couldn't see it. "Yeah, yeah we do." 

The ground trembled, like the storm had spawned an earthquake, and a shower of dirt fell on their heads. At least, Stiles just hoped it was just dirt. 

"We need to get out of here," Chris said from somewhere over to the left. "Hurry, before—"

Another tremor ran through the ground, and the beams overhead creaked and splintered dangerously. 

"Shit," Stiles muttered, and helped his dad to his feet. "Come on, let's go." 

He'd taken two steps toward the stairs when another tremor hit, this one even stronger than the last. This time, the beams gave a sickening crack.

"Get down!" Chris yelled. 

Stiles hit the dirt, taking his dad with him. His heart thudded against his ribs so hard he thought it might explode. They were going to be buried alive down here. 

More dirt fell on them, driven by the earthquake, and Stiles waited, tense, for the beams to come crashing down on them. 

They didn't. 

When the tremor finally stopped, Stiles opened his eyes and wiped the dirt from his face, looking around to see how the hell they weren't dead. 

Silhouetted by what little light came from the open door above, Isaac crouched in the center of the cellar, holding the beam up with his own two hands. 

Stiles dropped his head back to the floor in relief. "Thank God for werewolf strength." 

Isaac grunted. "Werewolf strength isn't going to hold this for long. Get them out of here." 

Stiles made his way to the stairs, and his heart dropped. The earthquake had shaken the entire staircase to pieces, and now it lay in a heap of half-rotted wood. Rain dripped onto his face from the open door _twelve fucking feet_ above his head. 

Allison came to stand beside him, and when Stiles finally dropped his gaze from the door, he saw the same look of fear in her eyes that he felt thrilling through his own body. 

They were trapped.

***

Derek flew through the air and slammed into the wall, hard enough that he felt his ribs crack, lancing pain through his side. A split second later, Scott crashed into the wall beside him.

Deucalion stalked toward them, mouth twisting around his massive fangs. Behind him, Derek could see Boyd and Ethan fighting, and to the left, Jennifer and Kali were entangled in their own vicious battle. Deaton and Peter were nowhere to be seen. 

Derek jerked his attention back to Deucalion just in time to see him pull back his hand. Derek dove to the side, taking Scott with him, before claws embedded into the wall right where his head had been. 

He pushed Scott to his feet, shoving him forward, trying to get him farther away before Deucalion took another swipe at them. 

"You should've gone with Stiles," Derek muttered.

Scott balked. "What, and leave you guys alone? I'm not afraid of him!" 

Deucalion yanked his hand out of the wall and roared, the sound of it shaking dust from the rafters and rattling Derek's teeth. 

Scott gulped. "Okay, I'm a little afraid." 

Derek shoved him again. "Go!" 

Deucalion came straight at them again, moving so fast Derek could scarcely see his arms. Derek raised his own in defense, putting himself between Deucalion and Scott. He blocked the blows he could, dodged the ones he couldn't, moving by rote and muscle memory. It didn't help much; he felt the sting of claws along his side, his arm, his stomach, but at least it kept him from being gutted. 

A week ago he would have charged in headfirst, thrown himself into the fight even knowing he couldn't win. Now, though...now he had a pack, one that had chosen to unite. An emissary who had chosen _him_.

Derek couldn't let them down. 

He struck back, but Deucalion blocked his strikes easily. Derek searched for a weakness, for any opening Deucalion might give him, but he couldn't find one. 

Just then, Scott darted up and punched Deucalion's side. Deucalion whipped around and wrapped his hand around Scott's throat. "Bad idea," he snarled, and threw Scott across the room. 

Derek took advantage of the distraction and jabbed twice at Deucalion's stomach. It was a quick move, wouldn't do much damage, but both his blows struck true, and Deucalion roared in pain. He spun around and swung wildly. Derek dodged the first two swipes, but the third caught him on the face, raking down his forehead and cheek. 

He hissed at the pain and missed the next blow. Derek stumbled backward and got his hands up again, but blood dripped into his eye, obscuring his vision. _Shit_.

He shuffled back, trying to give himself some space, but then Deucalion jammed a claw into his right shoulder. Pain blossomed, and Derek snarled with it. He grabbed Deucalion's wrist and tried to shove him back, but Deucalion didn't budge. 

Deucalion twisted his claws. "You should have come with us when you had the chance."

Derek swallowed a growl at the fresh wave of pain. "I'm not going to kill my pack." 

Deucalion shot out his other hand to grab Derek's throat, and smiled grotesquely. "Pity." 

Derek bared his fangs, fighting to keep Deucalion from ripping out his throat. "What do you even want with me?" 

"Your mother never agreed with me after I lost my sight." Deucalion's eyes burned brighter red. "But she was powerful. I want that power in my pack, one way or another." 

Derek growled and struggled, but Deucalion's grip was like iron, slowly squeezing his throat closed. 

Then Deucalion jerked forward, as though someone had struck him from behind. 

Peter's head appeared over Deucalion's shoulder. "Really, we'd prefer to keep that in the family." 

Deucalion's face contorted in anger and pain. He let go and whirled on Peter, and Derek saw the gaping hole in his back where Peter had clawed him. 

Derek glanced over his shoulder to make sure Scott and Boyd were okay. They were both standing, though they looked a bit worse for wear. Derek couldn't see either of the twins. He decided to take that as a good thing.

He pulled himself back to his feet and wiped the blood from his face, wincing at the slices that still hadn't started healing. 

Deucalion and Peter stood only a few feet apart, claws out and lips curled, like they were a heartbeat away from jumping at each other's throats. 

_Hell_. Peter still hadn't recovered fully from his resurrection earlier in the year. Deucalion was going to rip him apart. 

But wait. He had fangs and claws. Derek froze. Since when had Peter gotten his fangs back? 

Something flashed in the corner of his eye, and Derek flinched away. Broken glass flew between Peter and Deucalion, driving them apart. 

Jennifer stood there, one hand around her stomach, blood dripping from her face and arms. Her face flickered between its scarred version and the one Derek knew, like she was having trouble holding onto her magic.

Derek scanned the ground. Kali lay on the floor in a pool of blood, unmoving. Aiden wasn't far from her. 

He edged back toward Scott and Boyd. If Jennifer was going after Deucalion, Derek sure as hell wasn't going to be stupid enough to step into the middle. At this point, Peter was on his own. 

"Well." Deucalion straightened and cracked his neck. "I see you've resolved your lover's spat." 

The air around Jennifer pulsed blue, and Derek wrinkled his nose at the rotten stench of her magic. "You had her murder our pack," Jennifer snapped through blood-stained teeth. "You had her leave me for dead. Your life is _mine_ to take." 

Deucalion threw back his head and laughed. "I am the Demon Wolf, druid. Do you really think you have the power to defeat me?"

Jennifer smirked. "Tonight? Yeah, I do." 

_Oh shit_. The eclipse.

Derek turned to the broken windows, seeking the moon, but he didn't really need to. Already he could feel it, the thrum in his blood quieting as the moon moved into the shadow of the Earth. 

No wonder his face wasn't healing. He was already turning human. 

Deucalion seemed to realize this at the same time, and his skin started to change, his fangs receding and face morphing back into human. 

"We have to help," Scott said, taking a half-step forward like he would be able to stop Jennifer from doing _anything_. 

Boyd looked at him like he'd lost his mind. "Which one do you want to help, the crazy lady who wants to kill your parents or the crazy guy who wants to kill _us_?" 

Derek grabbed Scott and Boyd. "Neither. Hide!" 

He pushed them both behind the couch just as the hair on the back of his neck stood on end and the sharp scent of electricity filled the air. Derek threw himself on top of Boyd and Scott and covered his head. 

A split second later, lightning flashed through his apartment, followed by a crack of thunder so loud it was a miracle he didn't lose his hearing. Derek winced at the sound of wood cracking and metal creaking. They really needed to find better cover than the couch he and Isaac had picked up off the corner of Fourth and Main. 

He peeked over the back of the couch. Jennifer was surrounded by a blue glow so bright Derek could barely see her. Deucalion was still standing, though he looked much bloodier than he had just a few minutes before. Derek could see the door on the other side of them, but there was no way to get to it without going through the battle. 

He glanced out the window at the blood-red moon, where it shone through the clouds. He had no idea how long the total eclipse would last, but there was no way they could survive Jennifer for more than a few minutes at best. 

He moved off Scott and Boyd and got into a crouch, scanning the loft for either a way out or a better hiding spot. They could make a break for the staircase and the second floor, but he wasn't sure if they'd have a chance to get there before Jennifer spotted them. 

Another bolt of lightning flashed, and Derek threw his arms over his head just before chunks of stone fell from the ceiling.

Okay, forget making a last stand. They needed to get out of here before Jennifer brought the building down. 

Boyd tensed, like he was a wrong breath away from jumping out the window. "What do we do now?" 

"Get to safety," Derek said. 

Boyd shook his head. "Not leaving you." 

"No." Derek rested his hand on Boyd's shoulder. "We're _all_ getting to safety." 

"How?" Scott flattened his back against the couch. "They're between us and the door. Is there another way out of the place you haven't told us about?" 

Derek nodded to the back windows. "Fire escape off the balcony. It's probably not safe, but—" 

Another chunk of rock fell from the ceiling and landed on the couch, breaking the frame. 

Scott scrambled away from it. "Don't have to tell me twice." 

Derek jumped to his feet. "Go!" 

They bolted for the balcony. Derek prayed Deucalion and Jennifer were occupied enough with each other that they wouldn't pay any attention to them. 

Scott reached the door first and swung out onto the balcony, running for the fire escape. Boyd reached it next and paused, looking back at Derek. Derek waved him on. They needed to go, they needed to get Cora and Lydia, they needed—

He jerked to a stop. 

Derek fought to take another step, but it was like he'd been suddenly trapped in modeling clay. 

"Really, Derek?" Jennifer said. "Did you think I'd let you get away that easily?" 

Boyd's eyes widened, and he took half a step forward. 

Derek shook his head. "Boyd, go." 

Jennifer spun him around, and Derek had to close his eyes at the sensation. He still couldn't move at all. 

She ran a hand down his arm. "You don't have to worry. I'm not going to hurt them."

Derek shuddered in revulsion. "Why should I trust you?" 

She narrowed her eyes, and the air between them thrummed blue with magic that made his teeth hurt. "The only people I've killed are the ones who deserved to die."

Derek bared his fangs. "Yeah. I'm sure so many of the people you sacrificed _deserved_ to die." 

She dug her fingernails into his forearm. "It was a necessary evil. Necessary to rid the world of creatures like _them_." 

She flung her hand out at the loft, where the Alpha pack laid dead, every last one of them. Derek didn't know whether to be sick or relieved. 

Jennifer turned back to him, a small smile on her face. 

A chunk of brick slammed into the side of her head. 

Whatever magic she had on Derek snapped like a rubber band, and he fell back onto the floor. The impact knocked the wind out of him, and he coughed and rolled to the side. 

Boyd stood several feet away, holding another chunk of brick in his hand. 

Jennifer shook her head and wiped away the blood. The blue air around her pulsed erratically. "You shouldn't have done that." 

"Oh, yeah," Boyd said. "I should've." 

He threw the other brick. 

Jennifer held her hand up and the brick froze in midair, and the pulsing sped up. Her face started healing, then stopped, then flickered back to its scarred version. The scent of magic turned bitter and sour.

That couldn't be good. Derek scrambled to his feet and ran to Boyd. "Get away, get away, get down!" 

Boyd turned and ran to the kitchen, to the heavy wooden table that was still standing despite everything. Derek followed him and pushed it over, using the table as a shield between them and Jennifer. 

As soon as the table hit the ground, she exploded in a ball of blue fire.

Derek covered his head and pressed up against the table as tight as he could, listening to the debris raining down in his loft. Beside him, Boyd was practically curled into a ball. 

Then it was quiet.

Derek slowly dropped his arms and cautiously peered over the edge of the table. There was a six-foot scorch mark on the floor where Jennifer had been, with matching ones on the walls nearby. The Alphas were all dead on the floor. Peter and Deaton were nowhere to be seen. 

"Shit," Boyd said. 

Derek could only nod. 

The smells in the loft grew sharper, and Derek could feel the lacerations on his face itch as they finally healed. He took a deep breath and let his eyes bleed red, relishing in the familiar hum of the moon.

The eclipse was over. They'd survived.


	8. Alpha and Emissary

"Okay," Stiles said. "We may have a slight problem." 

Isaac groaned. "Define 'slight.'" 

"The stairs are broken," Allison said. "Without a rope, we can't get out this way." 

"That's not a slight problem!" Isaac yelled. 

The wooden beam creaked ominously. 

"Maybe we shouldn't yell," Allison whispered. 

Stiles nodded. "Yeah. That sounds like a good plan." 

Isaac grunted. "I can't hold this forever."

Stiles scanned the cellar, not that it did any good with how dark it was. He could just make out his dad holding Melissa, and Chris walking toward him and Allison. "Okay," Stiles said. "There's got to be another way out." 

"We've been down here for hours, and I haven't seen anything," Chris said. 

Stiles glared at him, though he wasn't sure how effective it was. "Yeah, well, it's pitch black down here. How _could_ you have seen anything?" 

He couldn't make out Chris's expression, but the exasperated grunt was familiar enough. 

Stiles tried to remember what the cellar had looked like in the vision, when he and Derek had found this place. It hadn't been pitch black then, he'd been able to see—

"What are you doing?" Allison asked. 

Stiles shushed her. "I'm trying to remember, hold on." 

It wasn't like he'd had a lot of time to look around, and he'd been more focused on his dad than anything else, but he remembered the boy under the roots of the tree. 

Stiles closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had no idea _what_ he was doing, but if his emissary skills and Derek's Alpha-ness had gotten them to this tree, then he could probably use them to figure out how to get _out_ of this tree. 

He faced the direction he'd been facing in the vision, and focused on calling it up in his mind. It was a little sketchy, but he was pretty sure he was recalling correctly. The image shimmered a little, and he turned to face the wall where the boy had been sitting. 

Suddenly the image became clearer, sharper, like it was actually right in front of him, even though he had his eyes closed and, even if he hadn't, the cellar was dark enough he shouldn't have been able to see his hand in front of his face. He could see the boy, pale skin and dark hair and tears streaking his cheeks, holding a girl who looked to be close to his age and very, very dead. 

Fuck, this was weird.

Nope, he wasn't thinking about the weird right now. It was magic, it was sort of working, Stiles was going to roll with it and hope for the best.

_Come on, show me another way out of here,_ he thought, directing the words at the boy in front of him. _You know this place, you have to know if there's some other way._

To his surprise, the boy snapped his head up from the girl he cradled in his arms, eyes wide and shining with tears and _glowing fucking blue._

Stiles gaped. "Holy shit, _Derek?_ "

The boy— _Derek_ , God, he couldn't be more than a couple of years younger than Stiles here—nodded shakily. His mouth moved, but Stiles couldn't hear the words. He wasn't sure if the magic was showing him an impression of something that had happened here years ago or if he was actually fucking time-traveling, but apparently two-way communication wasn't a thing. 

_I can't hear you_ , Stiles thought, and Derek's face fell. 

_I'm Stiles_ , he tried, and then because he didn't really have anything to lose, _I'm your emissary._

Derek's eyes doubled in size and he fell off the root he'd been sitting on.

_Yeah, that's a long story_. Stiles sighed. _Do you know another way out of here? Or are the stairs the only way out?_

If the stairs were the only way out, they were about to be in _really_ deep shit.

Derek raised his arm and pointed toward the wall, beyond the roots where he'd been sitting. 

Stiles slowly made his way forward, ducking to avoid anything hanging off the ceiling. He could hear the beams of the cellar creaking, people talking, but it sounded like it was coming from the other end of a tunnel. 

He pressed his hand to the wall behind the roots, and his fingers scraped something smooth and wooden behind the dirt. Something that felt like it had been carved, instead of growing here naturally. 

Stiles pushed on it. 

Something hit the ground with a _thud_ , and he jumped, blinking in surprise. He was back in the pitch-black cellar, the edges of his vision sparkling with white and blue. 

Stiles moved in the direction of the thud, feeling along the wall. Suddenly, where there should've been wall, there wasn't any more, and there _was_ a giant plank of wood on the ground that he nearly tripped over.

"What was that?" his dad called from the other side of the cellar. 

Stiles turned back toward the others, silhouetted by the faint light coming through the open door on the other side of the cellar. "I think I found another way out!"

Isaac groaned. "Awesome. Can you find a way for me out from under this fucking beam? I think it's getting heavier." 

"We'll need to find something to prop it with," Allison said.

His dad crouched and picked something up. "How about this bat?" 

Stiles nodded, before he remembered his dad probably couldn't see it. "Okay, Allison, get everyone over here to the door. I'll come back there and hold the bat to prop the beam so Isaac can get out." 

Chris grabbed the bat. "I can handle that." 

"Dad—" Allison started.

"I'll be fine," Chris said. "Go on, get everyone to whatever secret tunnel Stiles has found." 

"It's an _awesome_ secret tunnel," Stiles said defensively, before wondering why the fuck he was defending himself. 

"Anybody got a light?" Dad asked, half-joking. 

A second later, the sharp beam of a cell phone flashlight cut through the darkness. Stiles winced and covered his eyes.

Melissa, Allison, and his dad shuffled over, half-crawling to avoid the collapsing roof and lower roots. Melissa had the flashlight, as it turned out, and she aimed the beam at the tunnel. "I don't have much battery, but this can't go on too far, can it?" 

"Not that far," Stiles said, even though he had absolutely no idea. 

"You ready for us?" Chris called.

"Please say yes," Isaac said.

"We're ready," Stiles said. "Come on!" 

He watched with bated breath as Isaac knelt, taking the beam down with him. More dirt showered from the ceiling, and Chris crouched beside him, holding the bat steady. 

Then Isaac dropped the rest of the way, and the beam hit the bat and stayed. 

Stiles sagged against the wall in relief and waved them over. "Okay, let's go!" 

Chris grabbed Isaac off the floor and they half-ran, half-scrambled across the cellar. The bat held, but Stiles wasn't sure how long it would be able to. 

He pushed Melissa and Dad through the door, and then Chris and Isaac, and started to follow with Allison. 

Stiles made it three steps before something tightened around his wrist and he jerked to a stop. "What the—"

The tree roots had wrapped around his wrist. He tried to yank himself free, but only felt the roots dig in tighter, like the tree itself didn't want to let him go. "Shit!" 

Allison ran up beside him. "What's wrong?" 

"I'm fine." Stiles tried to rip the roots off, but he couldn't even get a grip on them. "Go, Allison, get everyone out of here." 

"Everyone includes you, dumbass." She ran her hand down his wrist and over the roots. "Okay, don't move."

"Don't _move?_ " Stiles repeated, and then he saw the glimmer of Allison's knife. "Oh, shit, definitely not moving." 

Allison slid the dagger between his extremely fragile skin and the tree roots, slicing at them. Stiles swore he heard something screaming in the back of his mind. 

She cut one free, then another, and Stiles yanked his hand back. The roots shot forward, grabbing for both of them. 

Stiles slapped them away. "Run, run, _run!_ "

Allison grabbed his arm and hauled him down the tunnel. Stiles stumbled after her until he managed to get his own feet back under him. 

It didn't take them long to catch up with the rest of the group, huddled close to Melissa and her cell phone flashlight. 

Dad caught Stiles by the shoulder as soon as he was close enough. "Are you okay? What happened?" 

"I'm fine." Stiles waved it off. "I got tangled in something. Allison got me out." 

"Jeez." Dad pulled him into another hug. "Don't scare me like that." 

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut and hugged his dad back, hard. He'd been so close to losing him, he didn't even want to think about it. 

"Seriously, how far does this tunnel even go?" Isaac asked. 

Stiles bristled. It wasn't like the magical vision had given him a _map_. "It goes until it stops." 

Melissa sighed. " _Boys_." 

Isaac hunched his shoulders. "Sorry, Melissa."

Stiles rolled his eyes, and fumbled his own phone out of his pocket and turned it on. Battery was at twenty-five percent, but at least being in the rain hadn't made it fritz. He tapped the flashlight on. "Okay, let's get out of the creepy-ass tunnel." 

The tunnel _did_ go on for longer than he'd anticipated, but it was still only another ten minutes before Melissa said, "There's a ladder!" 

"Thank God," Dad said. 

Sure enough, there was an old wooden ladder leading up to what looked like a trap door. Stiles angled his flashlight up at it, but he couldn't quite see how it would open. 

Melissa handed the phone off to Allison. "Okay, I'm going up." 

Dad and Chris positioned themselves on either side of the ladder, keeping it steady, and Melissa climbed. Stiles kept his flashlight aimed at the door. 

Once she reached the top of the ladder, Melissa pushed on the door. The wood splintered and fell, and Dad and Chris jumped out of the way just before it crashed to the ground. 

Melissa looked back down at them. "It's open?" 

It didn't take long to get everybody out of the tunnel and into the woods of the Preserve. Stiles collapsed on the dirt as soon as he was out and dragged in deep breaths of fresh, rain-soaked air. Blessed, blessed air that was not underground. He didn't even care that he was getting mud all over his jeans. They were _out_. His dad was _alive_. 

He had to sit up and put his head between his legs. His entire body trembled with relief, and he wasn't entirely sure he could stand. 

Someone patted him on the back, and he looked up to see his dad sitting next to him. 

"You did good, son," Dad said quietly. 

A lump swelled in his throat, and Stiles couldn't speak. 

Dad rubbed his back for another few minutes, like he understood, and then he stood and held out his hand. "Come on, let's go home."

***

It was nearly an hour later when Stiles finally trudged up the stairs to his room. When his dad had realized they only had the Jeep to get six people back to Beacon Hills, he'd called a patrol car to come out and take Allison, Isaac, Melissa, and Chris back home. He'd also told the deputies about the tree and cellar, how they'd have to have someone come out and board it up tight so no one could stumble across it. 

"I still can't believe there's cellar under a tree out in the middle of the Preserve," Dad had grumbled on their way home. 

Stiles had gaped at him. "Out of all the things tonight, _that's_ what you have trouble believing? I told you I used magic to find you!" 

Dad had shrugged. "You've kept this Jeep running for at least five months longer than I thought you would. Magic's not so far off." 

When they made it back to the house, Stiles had fully expected the interrogation to begin the second he walked in the door. Instead, his dad had walked straight to the fridge and pulled out a beer. 

"I'm going to go upstairs, I'm going to take the world's longest shower, and I'm going to call in sick tomorrow." Dad jabbed a finger at Stiles. "You are also calling in sick, and you and at least one of your supernatural friends—because I know there's more than one—are going to explain to me exactly what the hell has been going on in this town for the past year." 

"Probably longer than a year," Stiles admitted. "A lot longer." 

Dad raised his eyes to the ceiling and sighed. "And how long have you been hiding it from me?" 

Stiles swallowed hard and studied the top of the kitchen table. It was the same one they'd had for as long as he could remember, with the scratches and stains he knew like the back of his hand (most of which he'd put there). He couldn't imagine ever having a different one. 

"Stiles," Dad said gently. "How long?" 

Stiles cleared his throat. "Since January. Since Scott got bit." 

Dad rubbed a hand over his face. "For God's sake."

"Dad, I couldn't—"

Dad held up a hand and shook his head. "No. We're not arguing about this tonight. We're both still here. That's enough for me, for now."

Stiles nodded. He'd take it. Tomorrow he'd face the inquisition, but tonight, at least, he could just be happy his dad was still alive. That Melissa and Chris were still alive, and he and Scott and Allison hadn't been orphaned entirely. 

They'd hugged again—it was an emotional night for the Stilinski men—and now Stiles was ready to fall face-first on his bed and not move for at least twelve hours. He'd call Scott in the morning, or maybe Derek, see if one of them felt up for helping him explain the supernatural to his dad. Probably Derek, since he'd been living with it his entire life. 

Stiles opened the door to his room to see the werewolf in question sitting on the edge of his bed. 

He blinked. Derek was still there. Leather jacket, beard, pensive expression and all. 

"Um," Stiles said. "Dude, you okay? Did something else happen? Scott said everything was cool when we talked, oh God, was he lying? Who's hurt? Who died?" 

Derek rolled his eyes, and honestly that did more to calm Stiles down than anything he could have said. "Nobody's dead, and everybody who was hurt is recovered. Or recovering."

Stiles sank on the bed next to him. "Oh thank God. I couldn't have taken another bombshell tonight." 

"We cleaned up the loft after the fight," Derek said quietly. "Building's still unsafe, though, after what Jennifer did to it. Cora's staying the night with Lydia. Boyd went home, and Isaac's still with Scott. God only knows where Peter is." 

"And what about you?" Stiles asked. 

Derek shrugged. "I'll find something." 

"Oh, for God's sake, _no._ " Stiles threw his hands in the air. "The last time you 'found something,' it was an abandoned _subway car_. Just stay here. We've got a guest room." 

Derek's shoulders hunched. "That's not why I came here." 

"I know," Stiles said, "but I was going to make you come over tomorrow anyway to help me explain supernatural shit to my dad, so this will actually save you a trip." 

Derek raised his eyebrows. "Make me?" 

"Okay, fine, annoy you until you decided it would be easier to get over here and shut me up," Stiles said. "But seriously, you're the only one of us who's grown up with this—except maybe Cora, but I'm pretty sure she actually _would_ rip my throat out with her teeth—and you'll be able to answer more of my dad's questions than I would be able to by myself. So you might as well just crash in the guest room anyway." 

"Fine," Derek muttered. 

"To the staying the night or to explaining the supernatural to my dad?" Stiles asked.

Derek didn't meet his eyes. "Both." 

"Good." This was where Stiles would normally have slung his arm around Scott's shoulder, but he and Derek weren't there. He settled for awkwardly punching him in the arm. "I'm glad you've realized it's just easier to go along with my plans than to try and argue with me." 

Derek snorted. "It certainly shuts you up faster." 

"Come on, you should know by now that nothing shuts me up," Stiles said flippantly, and then chewed on his lower lip. "Hey, uh, this is going to sound weird, but do you remember me seeing me under the tree when you were, like, fifteen or something? Because I think I talked to you, or at least a past version of you, while I was down there and..."

Derek's shoulders rose toward his ears, and they looked so tight Stiles worried that he was half a breath from breaking in two. 

"Never mind," Stiles said quickly. "Dumb question." 

"I don't remember," Derek said, so quietly Stiles could barely hear him. "It wasn't me. Not really me. It must have been a shadow. An...an echo of something that happened there." 

God, he sounded utterly gutted, and it made Stiles want to wrap him in a blanket to protect him from the world. "Derek, you don't—" 

"Her name was Paige." 

Stiles clamped his mouth shut. 

Derek took a shuddering breath. "We'd been dating awhile and...she was bitten. It didn't take. I brought her to the Nemeton because it was somewhere safe, because I thought—" He cut himself off and shook his head. "It doesn't matter. She was dying. She asked me to...to make the pain stop. So I did." He paused, knuckles flexing as he clenched them. "That's why my eyes are blue. Were blue." 

Stiles felt like someone had punched him in the gut. "Holy shit. Holy _shit_. You had to kill your girlfriend?" 

Derek dropped his gaze to his hands, linked between his knees. "I always figured what happened to my family was some sort of cosmic punishment for Paige." 

"Oh, fuck no, dude." Stiles grabbed his wrist. "It's not your fault she got bitten!" 

"Yes, it was." Derek's knuckles turned white as he gripped them. "She wouldn't have even been there if it weren't for me. If we hadn't—" 

And no, Stiles wasn't letting him fall down the hole of self-recrimination and _if only I had..._ "No," he said again, more firmly. "No, I get blaming yourself, _believe_ me, I do. But you aren't the one who bit her. All you did was end her pain. At her request." He took a deep breath to calm himself down, and said more softly, "I don't think she'd blame you for that." 

Derek shook his head. "It doesn't matter. She's still gone, and it still feels like I could've done something to stop it." 

And really, what could Stiles say to that? He understood that. He felt it in his bones, the all-consuming feeling if you'd made a different decision, if you'd just done _one little thing_ another way, things would have turned out better.

"You're doing something now," Stiles said. "I mean, you're right. It's too late to do anything for Paige. But...you stayed with your pack. You protected us. You're protecting this town." Stiles squeezed his wrist. "You're a good Alpha." 

Derek scoffed. 

"Well, you're getting there, anyway," Stiles said. 

"Thanks," Derek said, though it was hard to tell if he was being sarcastic or not. 

Stiles decided to take it at face value. "You're welcome. You're the Alpha, I've got to do my part to keep your spirit up. Now, I think we have some spare toothbrushes in the hall closet—"

"I trust you." 

Of all the things Derek could have said to shut him up, that was at the top of the list. Stiles was speechless. Some days he wasn't sure if his own _father_ trusted him. And not to mention there had definitely been a time, not so long ago, where Derek _hadn't_.

But Derek was looking at him now, pale eyes earnest. "I trust you," he said again. "You...you saved my sister's life. You protected my pack. That's..." He trailed off, like he couldn't find the words. 

Hell, Stiles couldn't find the words. "I trust you, too." 

Oh, so apparently _those_ were the words. Derek looked about as surprised as Stiles to hear them. 

Stiles scrambled to explain. "That... you found a way to save my dad. You see him as pack, just because I am. That's...yeah." 

_That's everything to me_ was a little more vulnerable than he wanted to be right now. But from the way Derek's eyes softened, Stiles had a feeling he understood, anyway. 

Derek put his hand over the one Stiles still had on his arm and squeezed it gently. "This is what it's going to be like," he said softly. "Being an emissary to a werewolf pack. It's not going to be easy." 

Stiles shrugged. He'd never taken the easy way out; why start now? "The best things never are." 

Derek looked pensive. "Scott's going to have his own pack someday. He's with us now, but I'm not sure how long he'll stay." 

"So? We'll have the best multi-pack bond on the entire Pacific Coast." Stiles frowned. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you're trying to talk me out of this. And we're already bonded, big guy. I'm not going anywhere." 

Derek shook his head, but he still hadn't let go of Stiles's hand. "I just...I'm not good at this." 

Stiles wasn't sure if he meant the whole Alpha thing or opening up to someone or what, but it didn't matter. If anything, today had proved that Derek _was_ an Alpha, no matter how he felt. "You're getting better. And hey," Stiles bumped his shoulder. "You've got me." 

The smallest of smiles twitched at the corner of Derek's mouth. "Yeah, I guess I'm stuck with you." 

Stiles laughed and elbowed him. "Hey, fucker, that was _your_ idea." 

The smile got _bigger_. God, Stiles didn't think he'd ever seen Derek actually _smile_ before, really smile, not just smirk while he was trying to be threatening or grin while he was flirting. Derek smiling was kind of...awesome. 

"You went along with that idea," Derek pointed out.

Stiles nodded because yeah, that was true. "We can do this," he said. "Alpha and emissary." He held up his free hand in a fist. "Together." 

Derek looked at him for a long moment, pale eyes startlingly open, and it made Stiles's heart beat faster for reasons he didn't really want to examine too closely. 

Then Derek held up his own fist and bumped it against Stiles's. "Yeah. Together." 

**Author's Note:**

> Dubious consent refers to the magic Jennifer cast on Derek to get him to date/sleep with her. 
> 
> Character deaths are the Alpha Pack and Jennifer.
> 
> If you enjoyed this, please vote for [Falcon Helldiver](http://www.poll-maker.com/poll788266xE9b24beC-32)!


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